The Purple Man
by JagerIV
Summary: Kilgrave awakes imprisoned when he should be dead. Taylor finds herself with more company in the locker. Together, they will suffer and spread suffering. Kilgrave is a main character, and Kilgrave is not nice. You have been warned. Story is on spacebattles and there is a Reddit thread if you would like to comment on the story there.
1. 1-1 Kilgrave

1.1 Kilgrave

His world was pain. All of his body ached; his head throbbed worse than any other moment in his life of debauchery, violence, and experimentation. His neck was particularly sore, probably from when that bitch snapped it. Panic overrode pain as his eyes snapped open and he tried to get out, quickly falling off a bed onto painful metal grates. The pain prevented any further action for a while.

Eventually, the pain subsided enough so that he could open his eyes long enough to see his surroundings. They were painfully familiar.

"Well Bugger."

He was back in his hermetically sealed cell. It seemed the large glass panels were repaired, the water thankfully gone, but this was clearly the same bloody room in which that bitch had tortured and imprisoned him. Well, admittedly it could be worse. He could be dead. For some reason the bitch had simply taken him prisoner again. Maybe there was still hope for the two of them?

He pushed those thoughts out of the way. There would be time to think of her later. Right now, he needed to get his bearing, figure out what the situation was so he could take control of it. First he extracted his face from the grates on the floor, slowly pushing himself up into a more dignified sitting position on the bed making his face the very picture of calm. She had not taken any of his wardrobe and he remained in his full posh and gentlemanly outfit. On closer inspection, his suit if anything looked ironed and his shoes polished, a curious thing for his lovely to do, given the circumstances. Said lovely was nowhere to be seen. In fact the observation room on the other side of the glass was completely deserted. He was alone.

Well, only more time to prepare for the upcoming performance. After another ten minutes the pain had completely subsided. In fact he felt better than ever.

"Well, I guess it's time to inspect the accommodations. Oh, and hello to whoever's listening in. Now, let's see, same utterly spartan corner toilet, same featureless walls. Same low quality bed. Same floor grates, though I must say the lack of water is a huge improvement, and I must give my approval to the cleaning staff – not a trace of mother's blood to be seen. I'm glad my lovely Jones has finally at least learned the value of good staff and a clean living quarters, god knows she can't maintain one on her own. Ah, and finally the centerpiece of the room, this big, solid door, the only thing standing between me and my justly deserved freedom."

To punctuate his remark he slammed the offending door with his fist. To his great shock, leaving him speechless for many seconds, the door gave way under the smack and ever so slowly slung open.

"And it appears I may have spoken too soon. And, what do you know, on further inspection someone has forgotten to lock the second door as well. I must say this makes a much easier escape than last time, not that I'm complaining of course, but dearie you really should make sure to lock up before leaving the house."

And so he calmly strolled down the hallway marked "exit" by a prominent glowing exist sign, reached the end of the hallway, put his hands on the bars, pushed, and felt nothing give. It wasn't even as if the door was locked, it was like there was a cement wall in front of him that someone had simply stuck a door in front of. Nothing about the door budged even an inch, no matter what he tried.

He then tried each of the eight doors off the hallway. Each went to a room filled with an assortment of junk: spare sheets, extra pairs of cloths, many in his favorite color, a washing machine, stacked cans of food, a bare bones kitchen, piles of papers, an impressive looking array of electronic gizmos. Nothing that looked like an exit. He tried the ceiling and once again found it to feel like a solid block of concrete. He tried to find an air vent, only much to his concern finding nothing of the sort. After what felt like hours of methodical searching he had to conclude that there was no way out: that his cell had only been a room in a slightly larger prison.

"Ok, very funny little Jonese. What game are you playing? And don't give me the silent treatment, I know your listening. Is this your idea of 'justice' you wannabe hero? I see all the things you left here, looks like enough for someone to live a long, withering life. Is that it? Did you think I haven't suffered enough, figured you'd trap me like a rat and watch me scurry around my cage until I dropped dead? Is that your idea of being a hero, of justice, or are you just doing this to have a bit of fun at my expense?"

With no answer forthcoming he sat down at the "command table" facing his old "cell". It was more or less as he remembered it: computer to the right, large red pain button to the left, microphone in the center. Though, below the microphone was a device he didn't remember from before: a long brick of a control panel with three joysticks, three corresponding red switches, and six corresponding dials, two for each joystick. The sets of dials, switches, and joysticks were labeled "Taylor Viewer 1" "Taylor Viewer 2" and "Taylor Viewer 3" respectively.

"Well, what do we have here? Let's see what present our dear Jessica has left us."

At that he flicked a red switch, and immediately one of the large glass planes that gave a view into his cell came to life, showing crystal clear a rundown looking school hallway. The view was incredibly lifelike, and he had to get out of his seat and touch it to make sure it was indeed a projection on the glass and not some sort of portal, though it still played tricks with his mind when he looked at it.

"What are you up to Jessica, and how the hell did you get something like this?"

He returned to the control brick and turned on the other "Taylor Viewers" filling all three of the large panes of glass with slightly different views of the same hallway, all seemingly focused on one particular locker. Testing the joysticks showed that they gave him control of where each viewer was looking, to a degree. While he could rotate around, up and down, and zoom in and out, they all remained focused on one particular locker. Testing out the first dial, he found out that it gave a series of different modes to the viewers, the normal one, one that seemed to be some sort of night vision, a couple which he had no clue to the specifics, and a thermal one, which netted an interesting discovery: from within the locker was coming a rather large heat source. Zooming one of the views in and through the locker wall then switching to night vision showed the source. Some girl who looked to be in quite dire condition was apparently trapped in it, covered in some quite disgusting filth, which utterly distracted from any good qualities the girl might have had under it. The crying and sobbing was not helping her at all.

"Hm, I'm not being held by my dear Jessica am I? The Jessica I know, bless her little hero heart, would never stand for this. Which leads to the quite concerning question of who is holding me?"

The final dial turned out to be a volume controller, which confirmed that the girl was shouting and crying, as he had seen, though her voice had already gone quite horse, so it looked like she'd been at this for a good while. Some experimentation showed that each viewer acted as a separate microphone and could hear the girl sobbing and trying to scream. The overlapping and slightly different pitches annoyed his ears, so he turned off all but one. With nothing else to play with he decided to try and contact the poor little thing on the viewer. The microphone seemed a good place to start. He pressed the big red "speak" button.

"Hello, Hello, can you hear me?"

The girl stopped. "Yes I can hear you." After a moment's pause, she started getting hysterical again. "Thank god some came please, get me out get me out!" That wouldn't do at all.

"Now calm down lady, nothing good comes from panicking." She was immediately soothed by his words.

"That's a good girl, now, what's your name?"

"Taylor Herbert."

"Where are you Miss Herbert?"

"Locked in a locker."

"Well, of course, even I can see that silly, think bigger: building, city, country, that kind of thing. I want the big picture."

"Well, I'm trapped in my locker at Winslow High in Brockton Bay. We're a city north of New York in the United States."

"Well, I can't say I've heard of it before. Any particular reason why you're locked in a locker?"

"My old friend Emma and her friends Sophia and Madison locked me in. For some reason they've decided to make my life hell, though I never thought they do something this big."

"Ah, seems I've been paired with a beat on weakling, how dull. Well, since I can't seem to go anywhere without you, could you please get yourself out of the locker? I want to have a look around, and my scan of the area suggests no one else is going to be available to free you anytime soon."

"But, how? I've already tried for so long, and I'm so tired and so scared and so-"

"Now now lady, you're definitely not getting out with that attitude. I've looked at the door and you've made some dents on the very thin metal. You just need to punch it harder."

"ok I'll do that" and at that she started to punch the locker door. He gave some tips on how to throw a better punch, places to hit, and encouragement to hit harder and harder. Eventually she managed to deform the locker enough get out, clutching her now bleeding punching hand close to her chest.

"Now lady, was that really so bad?"

"Yes, that was very painful." She responded in a hoarse voice.

"Pff. You and that attitude. You should try to look at the positive side more often. At least you're free now, right? And speak up, I can barely hear you. "

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean little girl?"

"Well, I'm out of the locker, but I have this vague suspicion that you might be mastering me, though I don't quite know why."

"Well. That's a strange phrase. Why did you decide to change 'master' into a verb?"

"It's one of the 12 parahuman power categories of the PRT. Master is the category for those who wield some sort of influence over people. It seemed to fit, though I'm not sure why I think you're mastering me. This is so confusing, I just want to go home and make myself clean."

"Well girl, this is all news to me, and I think you'll have to elaborate a bit. Though now that we're out of the locker, I realize I didn't actually have any destination in mind either, and I'm sure you're probably not going to do much useful school work in your state. Let's walk home and you can answer some of my questions on the way there. Well, get going."

And so they did. Taylor walking the street covered in filth, clutching a broken arm and talking to herself in a whispering, raspy voice. He found it quite annoying how he needed to keep turning up the volume so he could her bloody girl as her voice continued to give out.

Still, he was able to learn many useful things on the walk, about the PRT, about Brocton Bay, and soon determined that he wasn't, as they say, "in Kansas anymore", a reference he was surprised the girl got, considering the radically different world she seemed to live in. He also found out more about this strange arrangement he found himself in. It seemed only the girl could hear him, and that he could only control her. This changed everything, and he would have to radically re-think how he operated.

By the time they reached her house, the sun had begun to set, and he couldn't think of any new questions, and the thing could barely talk anyways. He would need some time to digest what the girl had said and go over the notes he had started.

"This is home. Do you have any more questions mister … "

"Kilgrave. The names Kilgrave darling. And no, you've done more than enough for today. Go in, take a nice bath, and go to sleep. We have much to do, and we need you rested and presentable for whatever comes tomorrow. Just remember not to tell anyone about me, ok? Good night girl, it's been a long day for me too and I need my beauty sleep as well, though in all honesty you probably need it more than I do given your…you. Toodles."

At that, a satisfied kilgrave turned off the viewers, stretched, and went to find a comfortable spot to lie down and think about the day's events. At which point he remembered where "his" bed was. While it technically wasn't any more of a prison than whatever he was in, the cell still felt too confining. Thus, with a great deal of awkward effort, he managed to move his bed out of the cell and into a more proper room. The only reason he should now ever have to enter his cell would be to use the toilet. That inconvenience solved, he settled down for a nice time of thinking, eventually drifting off to a relaxing night sleep that comes from a productive day.


	2. 1-2 Danny

1.2 Danny

He had been able to brush off his daughter not being home when he got back from work, but as the time stretched on he had become increasingly concerned. He had called the school, but the impatient secretary who was just about to clock out had been less than helpful. With that he felt his options had been exhausted. All he could do was wait.

When the sun set, his daughter still not home, his nerves fraying, fingers drumming the table with increasing force, he was starting to consider some other options, maybe calling the police, or going out, or doing something, anything but just waiting. It gave him a start when the door just swung open and his daughter walked in, not even bothering to stop and close the door.

"Hun! I was worried about - Taylor what happened!" At that point he registered his daughter's condition. She was covered in filth, clutching a hand to her chest which seemed to be leaking blood.

"Sorry, can't talk, I need to get a bath and go to sleep." She responded in a quiet and broken voice.

"Your arm! Is your arm alright? Where's the blood coming from?" She almost didn't seem to hear him, and just kept walking deeper into the house. He put himself physically in front of her.

"Hun, please stop. Let me help you." She paused a bit, and seemed to be considering the request.

"Sorry I have to get a bath and go to sleep." she then walked around him. Her dismissal stunned him, and he let her keep going until at the last second he made a decision and firmly grabbed her arm. Try as she might, she couldn't overcome his grip.

"Dad, please. Let me go, I need to get a bath and go to sleep. Please dad, please don't stop me, I don't want to hurt you but I need to get a bath and go to sleep." She sounded so, so desperate.

"At least let me see your hand. You were really cradling that other hand, and I need to make sure nothing's broken. At least let me do that." There was a long pause. Then she punched him as hard as she could in the face.

The punch didn't really hurt, much, he could take a hit, but for his own daughter to hit him was so shocking that he let go. Taylor immediately tried to make a break for the stairs. On seeing his fleeing daughter, operating more on instinct than reason, he tackled her to the floor, hitting a table on the way down and landing on her bad arm, as he tried to restrain her in a bear hug.

Taylor for her part put everything she had left to hit, kick, and scream at her father, pleading him to let her go so she could get a bath and go to sleep. Danny didn't know what else to do but keep ahold of his manic daughter with all his might and hope she calmed down and came back to her senses, enduring strike after strike until that happened. They wrestled and rolled on the floor for what seemed like forever, Danny continuing to hold on and pray his daughter would finally run out of energy so he could get help and find out what was wrong with his daughter.

Eventually, help did come, though not in the way he would have liked. Two policemen arrived through the open door, through which the sound of the fight had left and caused concern for one of the neighbors. Seeing him pinning down his bleeding, exhausted daughter, the police jumped him, ripping him off his daughter and slamming him to the floor, his attempts at explanation falling on deaf ears.

While one policeman yelled incomprehensible things at him, he saw out of the corner of his eye the other trying to coax some response out of his Taylor. She for her part seemed content to ignore the policemen and try to crawl up the stairs, no longer having the voice to keep insisting on a bath and sleep. All the policemen's attempts to make her stop and rest failed, and at this point they were finally receptive to his words regarding his daughter's condition. The policemen, unsure of what to do in the situation, decided to leave Danny cuffed in the living room and lock his daughter in the police car until the ambulance arrived, who then put his daughter on sedatives and carted her of to parts unknown.

As to him, after a bit of bickering the two cops decided the safest option was to take him in to the station and let them sort out what to do. The police at least were kind enough to let him finally close the door, turn of the lights, and lock up his house before taking him to the station. They even removed his cuffs for the ride there. He figured he should be thankful for the small, small kindnesses god decided to throw his way, though he found it awfully hard to summon any feelings of thankfulness on a night like this.


	3. 1-3 Taylor

1.3 Taylor

She felt incredibly, what was the word, bizarre. Her entire body felt strange, utterly different from how it had ever felt. She didn't recognize her surrounding at all. It looked like some sort of maintenance hall, except for right in front of her were three massive incredibly high def screens showing …

Her. The changes had initially thrown her off, such as the hospital gown, neck wrappings, and hand cast from when she had broken it punching her way out of the locker and then punching fath-

Ohgodohgodohgoddad.

What did she do to dad! She remembered that desperate fight, her yelling, screaming despite how much it hurt her, and hitting him over and over again because kilgrave told her.

She needed to throw up and brought her hand to her mouth from its position resting on the table to try and delay it until she found a sink or something. When she noticed that everything about her hand was wrong. It was too long, the color was wrong, the dimensions were wrong, it looked masculine. She tried to take in the rest of her. This wasn't her body, it wasn't anything close to her. She was a teenage girl, this was some sort of middle aged man.

She gave up on holding it in and puked directly on the floor. She/he then rolled onto her side next to the pile of vomit and cried.

The locker, the torturous escape and walk home, the British man, Kilgrave she remembered, who had asked her question after question, each time it hurting more and more to speak. The fight with father, him being so unfairly arrested, her constant attempts to go take a stupid fucking bath despite her body feeling like it was falling apart. And now she was in a strange room in a strange body. It was too much, it was too unfair. Why did she have to suffer, why did everything bad in the world happen to her? What did she ever do to deserve this.

She pondered such questions and processed the day's unfairness as she lay on the floor curled up beside her vomit in her not body and sobbed, cried, and moaned.

She was there for a good half hour. She was brought out of it when she started to hear a voice. The source seemed to be the desk up above. She pulled herself together enough to investigate. It was coming from a control panel on the desk, and the voice was that of a doctor discussing her "her" body with a nurse.

"I agree with you regarding the patient. She's been asleep for a good while, and we haven't seen any signs of abnormalities in the tests and observation. Whatever was going through her mind when they brought her in should hopefully have worked its way out. Start taking her off the sedatives. Just make sure you're here when she wakes up, and if she's still resistive don't be afraid to put her back under the drip or call for help if she's particularly aggressive."

So, that explained her, well, her body's condition. Which unfortunately gave no real clue to what the hell she was doing in this body. She tried the microphone, though she got no response from the nurse in the room. Listening to her new voice was shocking and almost brought the panic attack back. It sounded so different, but so familiar.

She tried to fake a British accent. She certainly wasn't going to win any acting awards, but it confirmed her suspicion. This was kilgrave's body. So this must have been the room he controlled her from, was spying on her from. But if she was in his body, did that mean he was in hers? Why would this psychopath switch body's with an unconscious girl? Something wasn't adding up, and rather than dwell on the awfulness of the situation, she latched onto the mystery of it and began to explore the room to search for some clues, keeping an eye on the viewers to make sure nothing was changing.

The area turned out to be small and prison like. As far as she could tell, the guy was sealed in, though with tinker tech, which the villain clearly had, one could never tell such things for sure. He had sounded like he was from somewhere else during the questions however and had seemed interested in her merely because he couldn't interact with anything else, so he might possibly really be trapped here. Though, when she tried the phone and computer, she found calls could be made out and the internet accessed, so that explanation didn't really make sense either.

Before she could make any real use of the phone or computer however, she started to see some movement on the viewers. "She" was starting to wake up and caught the attention of the nurse.

"Taylor? Taylor Herbert right? How are you feeling?" 'Taylor' was looking completely confused.

"Where am I? Who Am I?" 'Taylor' ordered, though in her throat's condition such yelling immediately caused a coughing fit. She also seemed to have suddenly gained a British accent.

The nurse seemed to freeze for a second before answering in a not quite normal tone of voice "You are Taylor Herbert, a patient who came in yesterday with a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and a whole host of other injuries from fighting your father, if you would like me to list them all out from your card. You are in the Brockton General for treatment and recuperation."

"Well, that's certainly a strange turn of events. I think I'll have some other questions, but get me a drink of water first I'm parched." The nurse immediately began fulfilling her request. Or maybe it would be better to say his request, since Taylor was certain this was Kilgrave. She couldn't resist waiting till he was drinking the glass of water before pressing the talk button on the microphone.

"Kilgrave." Taylor got a small amount of satisfaction from watching him choke a bit on the water.

"Ack. What the bloody hell was that? Is that my voice? But without my accent. And it was so weird, like it was coming from within my head."

"This is Taylor, the girl who you 'rescued' from the locker, made fight her own dad, hospitalized, and who's body you are currently 'borrowing'. Ring any bells? Tell me, why are you stalking me?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort, and this situation is just as bizarre and undesired for me as it is for you, though I assume you'll want some sort of explanation for all this."

"You think you can justify what you did with a little 'explaining'? Do you have any idea-"

"Taylor, are you all right?" The nurse seemed to have been getting worried about the private, one sided conversation 'Taylor' was having with herself.

"Oh, you're still here? Don't you have other patients or something to do? Go away and let me speak in private." And at that the nurse promptly left.

"So, with that out the way, Taylor darling, if I could call you darling."

"No."

"Ah, you still have that attitude. Think more positively."

"No." He gave a slight humph in response.

"Very well then, be that way. Now, I know we both got off on a bad foot, and I'm sure you think this is all my fault, but I think I can convince you it's not all my fault, and what is was a perfectly honest mistake."


	4. 1-4 Kilgrave

1.4: Kilgrave

Kilgrave was in quite a pickle. After waking up from his restful night's sleep he had discovered his little pet was unconscious in a hospital room. His attempts to get answers by swinging the viewers around the unconscious girl were more or less fruitless.

When he was about at his wits end, he remembered the big red pain button. When his darling had imprisoned him, that button had been used to send a current coursing through his cell, a certainly quite unpleasant experience. In this new prison however the purpose of the objects had changed: what was previous used to talk to and see him now was used to do those things to Taylor. Perhaps, he reasoned, the pain button would also be re-purposed to interact with Taylor in some way. And if there was anything that was going to wake her up, that button would be it.

So, he had pressed it, and things had gotten weird. First, everything had gone black, next came an incredible feeling of grogginess and a sense of dull, distant pain. Slowly he had risen out of the fog and found himself face to face with a nurse in a hospital room. Naturally, he was able to quickly regain his composure and footing in the situation, and came to a rough conclusion of what the red button must do and his general situation.

Then Taylor spoke.

This was a problem, since she apparently had his precious body, and while the ability to possess someone not locked in a cage was a nice feature, he was still rather attached to his old accommodations, despite its problematic condition. Furthermore, while he was pretty confident his power had transferred over based on the behavior of the nurse, he couldn't exert any control over Taylor in this arrangement. He would have to talk himself out of this the old fashioned way.

"Now, I know we both got off on a bad foot, and I'm sure you think this is all my fault, but I think I can convince you it's not all my fault, and what is was a perfectly honest mistake."

"A bad foot? You call this a bad foot? You made me beat my own father! He's in jail because of you!"

Hm, he wasn't always the most careful of sort, but he was sure he would have remembered giving an order like that.

"Darling Tay-"

"DON'T CALL ME DARLING YOU MONSTER!"

"Right. Miss, ugh, Herbert, what exactly did I tell you to do?"

"You ordered me to take a fucking bath and go to sleep, and I had to get in a fight with my dad to try and comply."

"Ah, that's what happened. I think that's what we call an honest mistake and, before you explode, consider this: if I had wanted you to fight your father, why would I engineer it in such a roundabout way? If you consider simply consider what I said, was there any malice in my departing words?"

"Um. Huh. Why wouldn't you be more careful talking? I know you know you have a power."

"Ugh, everyone always says 'be more careful' as if it was as easy as that. I've had this power for almost my whole life you know, and I can't turn it off. Can you imagine trying to have a conversation without ever making a request of someone? Do you have any conception of how difficult, how impossible, such a level of careful word parsing is? To, as unfortunately happened to you, not be able to wish someone a good night without potentially dire consequences? Bloody hell, I've made several in that couple of sentences alone.

I think, if you look at the events objectively, you will see I meant you no harm with those parting words wishing you a good night. I know I did you an unfortunate amount of harm, but can you see that I did not mean for you to suffer? It was an honest mistake, an immensely unfortunate, but honest mistake."

"BUT! But . . ." He could practically hear the gears turning in the youngling's head, trying to find fault with his words. ". . . but, what about the talk? The walk home? You could tell I was suffering, right? Anyone with an ounce of empathy would have realized that."

He paused to think a moment. "I will admit reading people has never been a particular strength of mine. Since I've been - burdened with this power for so long my skill at reading people has never had the chance to develop. As my Jessica used to say, I've never learned to interact with people in a way someone would call normal. Jessica Jones, the little cricket on my shoulder, was the closest I'd ever come, which is rather sad when I think about it. Combined with my shock from finding myself in such a strange situation, my own significant problems clouding my mind, I honestly was in no condition to notice your dire state."

"Huh. I guess that makes sense, I think? Maybe? . . . Who's Jessica?"

"Ah, Jessica Jones, she and I were - close. She was a true hero as they say, always looking out for the victims of the world. Got her into trouble a couple of times, but her heart was always in the right place. We hero'ed together for a while you know."

"You really don't seem the hero type, and that name doesn't help any, Mr. Kilgrave."

He gave a little chuckle at that, which surprised him since it came out as more of a girly giggle. And brought about a coughing fit. Right, on to the important issue.

"You're more correct than you know. I often relied on Jessica to reach the right decisions during our heroing career. When we had to part ways, I was hopeless at it. You like heroes, don't you Taylor?"

"Well, yeah, everyone likes them. Everyone wishes they could be one."

"Would you like to be a hero Taylor?"

"Um, why are you-"

"Because I can help you become one. You seem a good girl. A bad girl would never react so strongly to getting in a fight with her father or put up with such merciless bullying for so long. Between my power and your morals, I think we could make a pretty good team."

". . . why are you, no. What are you offering?"

"Well, since we're stuck together, we will need to depend upon each other until we can find some sort of solution for the current predicament. And since, as you say, it is your body, it only makes sense that most of the responsibility to help rests on me. And I can help you a great deal, to be a hero, to be rich, to be popular, whatever you want, I can help you achieve it. So, what do you want Taylor darling?"

"What do I want? I want - I want my dad back. I want him out of jail. I want his reputation repaired! . . . and I want his forgiveness."

"Hm, baby steps are a perfectly fine way to walk down the path to happiness. Well, let's see if I can make your wishes come true. Do you happen to know a good Lawyer?"


	5. 1-5 Allen

1.5 Allen

This was certainly not what Allen Barnes had expected to be doing today. He had been in the middle of a mindless work induced zen, making sure citations were matched correctly, when he had gotten a call from his wife. His initial annoyance at being pulled out of the zone was soon replaced by stunned disbelief, then worry. If his wife was to be believed, his old though somewhat distant friend Danny Herbert was in prison and his daughter, Taylor Herbert, was in Brockton General Hospital. Taylor had called his house and relayed such to his wife, requesting his presence at the hospital to help sort things out. While he was fairly certain Mr. Herbert wasn't in prison, jail seemed much more likely, he likewise could think of no reason a girl like Taylor, such as he recalled her, would have to make up such a story.

Thus, with only a little bit of regret, he put off his work and drove down to Brockton General. The front desk confirmed that Taylor had indeed been admitted to the institution and was expecting him. When he saw the girl, he had a strange mixture of shock and relief. His wife hadn't been able to give much in the way of details regarding Taylor's condition, and being hospitalized could have meant anything.

In this case, it seemed to mean a broken arm, some sort of injury to the neck and some bruising on the hands and face, which probably meant there were others hidden by the clothing and blanket. However, she still had all her limbs, and she seemed to still have movement in them judging by the nervous movement of her hands and feet. So, while she certainly could be better, she could have been much worse.

Now he needed to find the cause of her condition. Taylor, while clearly nervous, spoke first, looking at her thumb as she rubbed her cast.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I- thanks for coming. I couldn't think of anyone else to ask."

"Um, thank you. I'm glad you so trust me." There was a long pause, and Taylor looked somewhat distracted. "So, can you tell me what happened? I'll warn you that I'm not necessarily the right lawyer for whatever this situation is, but I can probably find someone who is qualified once I know what happened."

"I . . . I was-" she abruptly halted, and looked almost like someone else was talking. Strange. "Mr. Barnes, what do you know about, about me and- sorry. About Emma and I?"

Hm, truth be told he didn't know much. In the past, Taylor had been a regular feature at the Barne's household, and Danny and his lovely wife Annette not infrequent visitors. Then Annette had passed and he had seen almost nothing of the two remaining Herberts. Seeing Danny turned into a chore Allen did only out of a feeling of responsibility for the man, and his daughter had been much the same, until recently.

There did seem to be something more, off with the relationship between Emma and Taylor recently. He still occasionally mustered the will to check up on Danny. Not often, not as often as he probably should, but every so often he did make the trip to the Herbert household. Emma never wanted to come on these trips anymore, and there was more than a bitterness of a good friend grown distant in her voice when she talked about Taylor these days, though he couldn't pinpoint where the bitterness had turned to something stronger.

He relayed more or less that to Taylor, through a series of questions and answers that would have almost been an interrogation if Taylor hadn't been so shy, nervous, and hesitant throughout. And the overly long pauses between the end of his speech and the beginning of hers was concerning. Did she in fact have some sort of brain damage as well? That would be very problematic.

"So, Taylor, while I am glad to answer your questions, don't you think we should deal with the pressing issue? What happened to you, and why is Danny in Jail?" He wracked his brain, but couldn't think of a more delicate way to put it. "Did Danny do this to you?"

Despite the fact that she had clearly been preparing for the question, she still looked like someone had lightly slapped her in the face. "No. Well, we did get into a fight and I got some injuries from that, but it wasn't his fault, it was K-" She had to stop and collect herself at that point. Allen was starting to worry he would have to get in contact with child services. He hated dealing with those people. She found her center again and continued. "It was my fault. When I came home, I was not in my right mind, and the two policemen who arrested dad can back that up. I had the broken arm before I got there. Dad was just trying to restrain me until I came back to my senses."

"That begs the question Taylor, of why you weren't in your right mind and broke your arm in the first place?"

"It was Emma's fault." Upon seeing the look of surprise on his face, she tried to backtrack a bit. "More, hon-" she seemed to have great difficulty getting the word out. After waving her hand as if to shoe something away, she was able to continue. "To be more honest, it was my fault, Emma was just reacting, reacting to my foolish ac- my foolish actions."

"You're . . . going to have to elaborate Taylor."

"We haven't been friends . . . haven't been friendly for a while. Some of the things she's done . . . that we've called . . . that we've done to each other have been very, very mean." She took a long time to collect her thoughts again. "Yesterday, while we were . . . fighting, I guess shouting is a better word, I lost control and tried to punch her with all my might. I- I think . . . I know I missed and hit the wall behind her instead. I didn't feel it then, I was too mad, too angry to feel it, but I think that broke my hand. One of her friends, maybe Sophia? I can't remember, but one of them defended her and threw me away. They might have hit me in the head, or maybe it was just the fall. I can't remember. But after that . . . after that happened I ran away. I must have wandered all over the place, but when I got home I was . . . I was still disoriented. And that led to me hi- to me hitting dad and being a madwoman. And that's the hon- the honest truth."

Allen didn't know what to say to that. "So, what do you need me to do?"

"Could you please get him out of prison? He didn't do anything wrong, it was all my- my fault. I can give a report, if that would help. I just don't want him to be punished for something that's not his fault."

"Certainly Taylor. I think I can get him out easily. Between your testimony, Emma's, and those cops who were at the scene, the evidence almost speaks for itself. I think your father's going to be a free man before dinner."

"Thank you! Wait. Emma's testimony?" There was a long pause. " Will she be willing to defend me, after everything she- I've done?"

"Of course. I know things haven't been, great between the two of you, but I'm sure she doesn't want to see your father in jail either. And an eyewitness will greatly help speed things along."

"But, won't she be worried about getting in trouble?"

"What for? According to your story, she did didn't do anything wrong. If you were able to run away from the incident, they wouldn't have had reason to suspect something was wrong with you. Unless you're leaving out some important details?"

"Um, no. If you think it important to bring her. Just, let her know what incident this is about first. You might need to go into some detail. It's not the first. And, like you said, they would have no reason to think what happened yesterday was ser- was serious." She seemed almost incapable of getting that last word out.

"Well Taylor, school's about to get out and the sooner I get your father out of jail, the better, don't you agree? Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She was quiet for a bit, shaking and nodding her head to invisible questions. "Actually, there is one more favor I would ask of you. Dad respects you, so he might listen to you when he wouldn't listen to me."

Allen didn't like the direction this last request was taking. "What do you want me to talk to him about?"

"I- I can't go back to school. I tried- I tried to punch my old best friend so hard I broke my hand. The atmosphere there is toxic, for a whole lot of reasons. I just can't put up with it any more. If I keep going there, that place is going to break me."

"Taylor, I know school can be hard, but an education is important for a girl. You don't want to drop out of school, and I'm not going to try and convince your father to let you."

"What dad wants doesn't mm-. Dad doesn't have to let me leave."

"I beg your pardon, Taylor?"

She sank back in, before seeming to find some confidence. "I am not going back to school, at least not immediately. Whether or not dad approves. You know him, our situation. If I decide not to go to school, he can't make me. I won't go back. But I don't want to disobey him. I want to be a good daughter. I'd much rather have his approval on this. I'll do all the homework, read the text books, do all the assigned work and twice that if that's what it takes, but I won't go back, at least not immediately. Maybe later, once I've gotten the chance to figure my shitty life out, but I won't go back immediately. I need some time away from that place."

After a bit of consideration, he responded to her request. "While I still don't agree with your decision, I can at least understand it. I'll . . . I'll see what I can do. If you are truly willing to do the work, something might be arranged to allow you to be absent for some time. I'm not making any promises however."

" Wasn't expecting any."

"Well, if that is all, I have to get your father out of jail. Good day Taylor."

"Thank you, Mr Barnes. I truly mean it. You've helped me greatly, I can't thank you enough."

At those parting words, he left the hospital, and was able to get to Winslow just as final classes were being let out. He picked up Emma, making it clear there was no debate about this. She initially had a look of panic when he told her he had just come back from talking with Taylor, who had told him what happened, but calmed down once he explained which event he was talking about. After some prodding, she agreed to give an eyewitness account of the event to the police.

It was fairly quick to find which jail Danny was in, and even easier to get him out. Likely the only reason Danny had still been in jail was that the overworked office workers had made processing his case a low priority. Still, Emma gave a statement which more or less matched what Taylor had told him, and the police cleared Danny of any potential charge, gave him back his keys and other personal objects, and released him into Allen's care.

Naturally, the very first thing Danny wanted to do was see his daughter, and since he would have been stranded at the jail, Allen saw no reason not to give him a lift to the hospital. He forced Emma to come along to see Taylor over her protests. While the father and daughter were having an emotional reunion, to avoid merely standing awkwardly in the corner like his daughter, he struck up a conversation with the Doctor, and found out some fortuitous news: they could take Taylor away today if they so wished. On relaying the news to the others, Taylor made it quite clear she didn't want to stay in the hospital if possible.

At this point, he had a good idea. "Danny, Taylor, this has been a long day for both of you, and you deserve to lay back and have a good meal. Why don't you come over and let my wife make you guys a nice dinner? I'm sure she wouldn't mind a few extra plates, and it's been too long since we had you two over. I'll drive you back home when you're done."

Both had a look of great uncertainty at his request. Danny spoke first. "Well Allen, I really appreciate the offer, but like you said, it's been a long day, and given what happened we might need some time to settle down. But, I'm up for it if Taylor is. What do you want to do honey?"

Taylor was quiet for a very, very long time, looking off into the distance, nodding and shaking her head. A few times her facial expression seemed to undergo a radical change, though he couldn't pinpoint what seemed to change. After a few horribly long minutes, she finely spoke.

"A good meal does sound good."


	6. 1-6 Emma

1.6 Emma

It looked like the locker prank had opened up a can of worms. Sophia had arrived very early to school, like just past midnight early, to see how Taylor and the prank were "progressing". And, unbelievably, the locker had been broken open, from the inside. Emma was initially puzzled. There was no way that weak, pathetic Taylor she knew could have punched her way through a steel door, even a thin one like a locker.

Sophia agreed, the Taylor they knew yesterday couldn't do it, but one who had triggered . . . well. That was something terribly different. Emma and Madison agreed. Sophia had cleaned up the scene as best she could, only a dedicated investigation would uncover what had actually occurred. Besides that, Sophia told Emma and Madison to be careful, avoid Taylor if they saw her, and never go anywhere alone, not until they could figure out exactly what had gone down last night.

They listened to her, the trio sticking together all day as best they could, keeping an eye and ear out for Taylor. Madison was quite on edge. Emma was a bit to, but she was quite good at hiding unpleasant emotions, at pretending until it was real. Sophia was agitated, annoyed, and a bit of a snapping turtle, which pretty much described her on any other day as well. The day passed without even a hint of Taylor. Then father had come to pick her up early, wearing a look of disproval on his face, and, despite her protests, refused to let her stay at school and "support" Sophia at track practice.

She nearly panicked when her father told her he was here about Taylor, but she maintained her cool and as she listened she was relieved on two accounts. First, Taylor hadn't actually told him what had happened yesterday, instead concocting a story about them getting in a "fight", and he had merely been disappointed that she didn't tell him about Taylor's "episode", thinking Emma had kept mum to "protect" Taylor. It was almost funny how wrong he was.

Secondly, she found out that Taylor had lost her mind and broken her hand in the process of escaping. If that was a power, it was the most pathetic one she had ever heard of. So, it seemed Taylor didn't trigger at all. She had just broken more, and even started lashing out at her father. That meant this prank was a bigger success than they had ever imagined.

So, with her two worst fears - her family finding out and believing the weakling, and said weakling gaining superpowers and wreaking terrible vengeance on the trio - having been soothed, she felt charitable and went along with this bizarre ruse Taylor had concocted to get her father out of jail while transferring all of the blame for things onto herself for some reason that probably only made sense in Talyor's victim mind. But, Taylor was a weakling incapable of standing up for herself, so being even more of a doormat seemed to fit with her nature.

The ride to the hospital from the Police station hadn't been particularly noteworthy or uncomfortable. She was kicked out of the front seat to make space for Taylor's dad, but that just meant she had the whole backseat to herself without anyone looking at her. She had protested coming up to see Taylor, but only faintly. First, it wouldn't do to make Taylor's dad suspicious, and honestly she wanted to see what the prank had done to Taylor firsthand.

Emma had initially been somewhat disappointed when she saw her. Sure, Taylor's hand was in a cast, and her neck wrapped and voice a little horse, but besides those two issues, she seemed alright, and certainly didn't lack for energy in greeting and talking with her father. Nothing interesting seemed to be wrong with the girl, and a hospital seemed overkill. Honestly the whole thing was a bore.

It turned out she was right: Taylor didn't need to stay in the hospital; she was perfectly fine enough to leave. Then father had a wonderfully awful idea.

"Danny, Taylor, this has been a long day for both of you, and you deserve to lay back and have a good meal. Why don't you come over and let my wife make you guys a nice dinner? I'm sure she wouldn't mind a few extra plates, and it's been too long since we had you two over. I'll drive you back home when you're done."

Taylor's father was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, seeming to sense on some basic, instinctual level what her father didn't seem to grasp, that that was a truly awful idea, but was willing to defer to his daughter about it.

And Taylor seemed to actually consider the proposal, for some ungodly reason. And consider it, and consider it, make a strange face, consider it, nod her head, do an out of the blue hand motion, consider it, and on and on for 84 fracking seconds from the moment she decided to start timing this terrible awful pause and silence, and she got more and more frustrated with every second, and she could feel the mask slowly slipping, and contributing to this stupid mangy girl obvious brain damaged became increasingly appealing, just to have something break this horrible atmosphere, when she finally, finally spoke and made the obvious deci-

"A good meal does sound good."

The exact opposite of what any reasonable person would have recognized as the obviously right decision. Father was relieved, whether at having guests or finally being able to do something, she couldn't tell, and he rushed them out of there, faster than it seemed she could react. Thankfully, she got the front seat back on the ride home, since Taylor's dad wanted to sit next to his daughter, but she swore she could feel Taylor's eyes boring into her skull from the silent backseat, though glances at the backseat through the rear view mirror showed that Taylor was mostly staring blankly into space. Something weird was still going on with her face. Annoyingly she couldn't place what was changing however.

"Could I borrow someone's phone?" Taylor's out of the blue request caught everyone off guard. Unfortunately her father recovered first.

"Sure you can Taylor. Emma, give Taylor your phone."

"But, dad, um-"

"Now now dearie, there's no reason to make a fuss over such a little thing. I'm sure given her situation there's some people who she needs to let know she's alright."

With a humph, she started to hand over her phone, quickly took it back to unlock it, she was quite attached to her current code and didn't want to give it up because of Taylor of all people, handed it over to the girl, and confirmed that her mobile number was still the same.

When Emma finally realized an important detail. "Who the heck are you actually calling Taylor? You don't have any fr- new friends I'm aware of. Certainly you don't hang out with anyone-else, at school."

There was another long pause, though on the order of 1-3 seconds, not the previous minute + pause from hell. "A new friend I met, online. His name is K- um, well his name starts with K, uh, well, its, um K-Kirby!"

"You know a boy named Kirby?" Taylor's dad asked, somewhat confused.

"Well," Taylor mumbled a bit. "I-it's not his real name. It's his, uh, screen name. Everyone goes by a screen name online. All the kids are doing it." She cringed at that last bit, and continued to cringe as if someone was yelling at her.

Emma for herself couldn't resist the obvious exploit. "Is this Kirby a boy or a man?" That earned her an evil eye from Taylor. It been awhile since she could muster one of those.

Danny spoke up. "Taylor, how old is . . . Kirby?" Taylor immediately turned red and huddled into herself.

"Um well, I don't know, I've never asked him - no, shut up you - Um, sorry. Like I said, I'm not sure."

Ok, this was too perfect not to keep twisting the knife, and this was important information to collect for later use. "But, if you have his number, surely you've talked to him at least? I'm sure you can guess his age from that?"

Taylor gave her another evil eye. She hadn't gotten this much response out of the girl in a long time, and it was quite refreshing. "Taylor, darling, I want to know as well." Looks like her father wasn't going to stop pushing.

She gave a sigh. "He's in his 30s."

Emma kept up the pressure. "Early 30s or late 30s?"

". . . late 30s." OMG, between the embarrassment on the daughter's face, and the look of great concern on the father's, this alone was almost worth this entire car ride. And, she realized, since Taylor was using her phone she would be able to check the records and find this "Kirby's" number and they would be able to ruin whatever she had with this pervert as well. This trip just kept on giving.

"Um, Taylor, while I trust your judgement, don't you think being in a relationship-"

"WE ARE NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP!" Taylor then broke out in a bit of a coughing fit. Right, she had hurt her throat somehow. "Um, sorry dad, buts it's been a really stressful day for all of us, and Mr. Barnes is so kindly giving us a ride and meal, could we please not deal with this right now?"

At that the phone rang. "That should be him. Now, please just let me get this over with, and I promise I can explain things later."

After that, things were more or less quiet in the car except for Taylor and her conversation with Kirby. Emma, try as she might, couldn't really pick up much. She couldn't overhear anything from the other end, while Taylor was clearly carefully watching her words, keeping things to monosyllable replies as much as possible, aware that both her arch nemesis, and probably more important, father were listening in. Still, someone in the relationship clearly had a lot to say, since they were talking right up to the point when they got to her house, at which point Taylor hung up and pocketed the phone.


	7. 1-7 Emma

1.7 Emma

Things went downhill from there. Emma's unease started to build soon after they had entered her home, and the family had gone through the standard greetings. While mother and her older sister worked on dinner, the two daughters and fathers sat down at the table, one family on each side. After a brief period of uneasy silence, Taylor broke the ice, asking what they thought about Chinese food, something both men turned out to have opinions on. And once the conversation had started, it kept on going, and the uneasiness built in Emma.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for her to figure out why: Taylor wasn't. Uneasy, that is. She wasn't acting like she was sitting at the table with her tormentor, an old friend who had betrayed her, or like one who desperately wished to be somewhere else, away from people and prying eyes. Instead, she was acting like this was a totally normal evening. In fact, if she didn't know better, and it was very hard to see the signs, it seemed like Taylor was enjoying herself. She was almost acting like she had before her mother had died. No, even back then, Taylor had preferred to fade into the background at any social event, even a small one like this. Instead, she was leading the conversation, becoming the center of attention. Taylor had never been this confident.

"And what about you Emma? How's the modeling going?" Did, did Taylor just ask how she was doing? What the hell was with that tone? How the hell could that wimpy twerp sound friendly! What the hell was going on!?

And she realized she had been staring slack jawed at the wimp like she'd just seen a unicorn. She did her best to recover. "Oh, it's going very well. I'm starting to learn the terminology of the business, lots of insider speak one has to learn to really fit in."

"Have you been getting paid much yet? You're so lucky to have a job, given the conditions of Brockton Bay."

Ugh, just fake it girl, you know you can do that. Don't let that bitch pull another embarrassment like that on you. "Well, I'm paid on a commission per shoot. Mostly I'm still at the, how do you call it, intern stage of my career, so shoots are currently paid worse than minimum wage given how much time they really take, but I'm getting exposure, and just this month I'm going to be getting my first real modeling job. Going to be front and center in an ad for a new phone coming out. How about you Taylor, how's your life going? I'd really like to hear some more about this 'Kirby' fellow." She gave a smirk. That would trip the arrogant bitch up and wipe that far too friendly smile off her face.

And it did, for about five seconds. "Oh, him. He's a pretty great guy, as far as I can tell. I didn't meet him all that long ago, and I've actually talked with him even less, but the time I've spent with him so far has been utterly wonderful. He's well spoken, strong willed, a persuasive speaker, funny, and has a very sexy British accent, at least if I say so myself. A bit on the lanky side for my tastes, but it's a strong dignified lanky, and no one's perfect, though he does seem to come close." She caught a worried look from her father. " At least from the pictures he's sent, he lives too far away to actually visit in person, which I must say is quite a shame, don't you agree?"

The whole table could do nothing but stare. Where the hell had that come from? Emma, for once, had no idea how to springboard off of that. She had been prepared for evasion, or denial, or muted acknowledgement of the affair. But a full throated declaration of, what? Was that love? Adoration? Hots for British people? Where the hell did she go from that?

Taylor seemed a bit at a loss as well, bearing a look first of confusion, then muted anger, which she did very well to hide. "Excuse me, but I have to go wash my, well, hand. Let me know when dinner is ready. This might take a while . . . learning to wash with one hand."

"Um, do you need help, darling?"

"No no father, just stay here and enjoy the company. I'll manage on my own just fine." And at that she rushed out of the room as quickly as she could without appearing to be rushing out of the room.

"Emma, go help your mother and sister in the Kitchen." That had been her father.

"But-"

"No." He let out a tired sigh. "I'm not in the mood to fight you. Now, go help your mother with the food." Catching the change in the wind, Emma begrudgingly left, stopping in the hallway just around the corner to listen in a bit on the two fathers, with Danny starting an impassioned conversation while her dad tried to serve as the voice of reason. Figures.

She decided to "take the long way" from the dining room to the Kitchen, which just so happened to take her past the bathroom Taylor had retreated to, in which she was engaged in a bit of incomprehensible, borderline incoherent yelling, which suddenly ceased when she got close. Emma took that as her cue to keep moving on, and quickly.

Taylor arrived back at the table five minutes late, but she seemed to have re-centered herself and was back to that disorienting, cheerful and friendly mood. Emma tried, but couldn't trip her up, and she seemed to be winning everyone else over. Taylor was, figuratively speaking, the life of the party, and that made absolutely no sense.

The worst part remained whenever Taylor tried to talk to her, sounding just like- just like her old friend, as if nothing bad had ever happened to, or between, either of them. She would even fracking reminisce about the old times, and her stupid parents were helping her, talking about that adventure out in the woods when they were 10, that disastrous birthday party they attended in the 6th grade, that sort of accidental prank they pulled on her sister and the righteous vengeance she meted against them in return. It was more than she could take, and she asked to be excused from the table, though she didn't wait for permission, and quickly retreated to her room, and locked herself in.

Once she was safely locked away, alone, she let out a frustrated growl and tugged at her hair. What game was that girl playing. Emma had lost. She knew that much, the one who retreats and locks themselves away is rarely the winner, but she couldn't figure out how she had lost, because she couldn't figure out what the game was. And if she didn't know what game Taylor was playing here, there was no way she could know what the rules and goals were.

That was the problem, she realized. Somehow, at least tonight, the two for them were no longer playing Emma's game, playing by her rules and her goals, where Taylor never stood a chance. Taylor had changed the rules, changed the game, and was on the offensive, a predator going after its prey. And there was only one possible prey tonight.

She had to do something, had to turn the tables. Call Sophia? She was supposed to come over sometime tonight anyways, once she had finished up some ward stuff. No, Sophia didn't like to be called while at work, and what would she tell her? That Taylor was being happy and talking to me? She could hear it now: "oh, of course Emma, I'll rush over there to protect you from Taylor's big, scary smile. Be careful to not let her overpower you with her one unbroken hand." There was no way she could word this without coming across as weak and pathetic.

Jump out the window? Run away? No, retreating more was not how one recovered from an already disastrous retreat. That would merely change a . . . a tactical withdrawal into a rout. No, she had to think up a good counterattack, and soon. So why couldn't she think of anything to do?

And then there was a knock at the door.


	8. 1-8 Emma

1.8 Emma

"Emma, can I come in?" Taylor? What? Why? "Emma, we need to talk. Please, let me in."

Taylor sounded, normal. Her normal weak, miserable self. So that whole thing downstairs was an act! She knew it! But, why break the act now? Emma put her guard back up. Taylor was still acting; she must be, playing some sort of little game.

"Emma? I know you can hear me. Please let me in."

"Fine fine, hold your horses you pathetic girl." Emma decided to let her in. First, turning her away would be a sign of weakness, and she couldn't afford any more of those, and second she would be more free to act one on one than surrounded by adult witnesses. Plus, if Taylor wanted to talk, there was no danger in hearing her out. If she was lucky, she might even be able to figure out what was going on with Taylor. So, she unlocked the door and opened it before going to sit on her bed. Taylor really had returned to normal, or at least put on a good act of doing so. She looked so hesitant, so concerned just to be stepping through the door. "Well, hurry the heck up, I don't have all day."

Taylor gathered her courage, or at least she gathered enough to step through the door and close it behind her. They were alone, and Taylor looked scared. Not fear fear though, more of a nervous anxiety, like someone with stage fright about to try and play a role. "Hey Emma."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Taylor you must be more brain damaged than I thought. We said our hello's ages ago. You said you wanted to talk? Well, if you have anything meaningful to say spit it out. Otherwise, I have no intention of repeating this wasted evening over again." Heh, she could see the barbs were stinging now. She had the power again.

"I-if you insist. I guess there's no rea- no real reason to delay this any further." At that Taylor closed her eyes, and once again that strange, un-pinable thing changed with her face. "Emma, you and Taylor, sorry, we were friends, right? Tell me."

"Yes." Something subtle had changed in Taylor's voice. It had become more commanding and confident, but something even subtler was off. Her voice was just slightly different, like someone was pretending an accent. Still, something about that voice had compelled her to answer, and before she could even consider that fact, the questions continued.

"Tell me honestly, was our friendship ever real to you?"

"Yes. You were, and still are, the best friend I ever had."

That surprised Taylor, and Emma was shocked at her candor. It felt good however, in some deep place in her heart, to finally admit that out loud. "Well, for someone who's supposedly the 'best friend you ever had', don't you think you've done some pretty shitty things to her- I mean to me?"

"The things I've done to you are terrible. It was so hard to start and keep doing it. To overcome the guilt."

"You felt guilty?"

"Initially. It was so hard at first. Every mean thing we did was like a dagger in my heart. It was so painful to make you suffer."

"Do you still feel guilty little girl?"

To that question, Emma needed to stop and think on it awhile. "I, I don't think so. I mean, I sometimes get these flashes of sympathy for you, but more or less I think I've purged that weakness from me."

"Well, I can certainly understand the desire to be strong. But burning useful bridges seems an awfully strange way to go about it." There was a bit of a pause. "Oh, right, don't worry I'm getting there. Emma, you should feel very guilty, betraying your best friend, betraying me, like that. Feel very guilty for what you've done. Certainly there must be enough humanity left in you to feel the crushing guilt you should feel?"

A wave of guilt was already washing through her, a level of agony she hadn't felt in some time. "Yes, I horribly regret what I've done."

"There, I knew our bond was too strong for you to have cut it like you claimed. You were just suppressing it. But, like I said, the bridges are burned, and I don't think either of us has any intention of rebuilding them. But, there is one thing I would like to know, before you leave my life and I yours: why. What bloody thing could motivate you to turn on an old, dear friend like Taylor? If you tell me, I'm sure it would relieve some of this guilt you've built up. Tell me why."

Emma could barely restrain her answer, so eager was she to be freed of this overbearing guilt. "It started when Sophia rescued me and my father from the ABB. Before she rescued me, she waited, to see how I would respond, to see if I was a victim or a survivor. She saw me as a survivor, so she beat up all the ABB thugs and rescued me. After that I decided to purge my old weak self, which included you."

"Wait, Sophia beat up a bunch of gang members by herself? How?"

"Well, she is Shadow Stalker after all. Wait, I guess you didn't know that. Dammit! I shouldn't have told you, now she's going to be mad and we'll no long be friends-"

"Quit. Be calm. Good. Sophia won't mind. But, I think we're going to need you to go into a bit more detail on these things."

And so she did. Every question, she answered to the best of her ability, and it felt like they covered everything: her reasoning for the start of the bullying, the details of how she met Sophia, how Sophia came to be in the wards, that man Sophia had accidentally killed, and some of the bad things she had done which the wards weren't aware of. Emma had to admit it was oddly liberating to get all of this off her chest.

To be honest, they both lost track of time, and it was a surprise to both of them when Sophia walked in.

"Hey Emma, who's that guy your parents are talking – Taylor. What are you doing with Taylor?"

"Oh, high Sophia. We were just talking about your various misdeeds as Shadow Stalker."

". . ." It took a while, but Sophia finally registered what Emma said, and she sprang into action and rushed Taylor, grabbing her by the collar.

"What do you know you little pathetic wor-"

"Stop!" Taylor yelled, and Sophia did. Emma too, though she didn't really notice. "Put me down, close the door, and sit down on the bed like a good little girl."

And, surprisingly, Sophia did. From her face, she seemed as surprised as anyone. Taylor rubbed her cast hand a bit, mumbling about unnecessary roughness with a cripple. Then Taylor let out a frustrated grown.

"Yes, your right your right. There's no way they're going to write this off as a spontaneous onset of conscience. No, I don't have an idea right now. It would be helpful if you could be quiet and let me think for a bit."

A call then came from downstairs. "Taylor, hun, it's getting late and I think it's time we go home."

Taylor gave a "fuck" under her breath. She went to the door and opened it, and Taylor's voice change to something more naturally Taylor. And at that moment it felt like a fog started to lift from Emma's mind. Her previous actions, which seemed sensible before, became confusing, her emotions foreign to her. She was about to voice her confusion, when she saw Sophia, finger to her mouth in the universal quiet sign.

Slowly, with Taylor's back still turned, preoccupied with asking her father for a bit more time, Sophia's hand reached down to her pocket. Her Ward phone! That's what she was going for! Emma knew this, or deducted such, and while she couldn't quite figure out why, she knew this was a very good thing.

"Stop!" Taylor yelled this mid turn, and Sophia froze, hands an inch in her pocket. Taylor's voice was very off. She spun back around, and her voice became more normal, but still slightly wrong. "Sorry Danny, I mean dad. I need to check something with Emma and Sophy. Wait a bit."

Taylor then shut the door and to talked to herself. "I'm sorry. Stop yelling at me, yes I probably controlled your father a bit. But it was necessary. If you could shut up for 10 seconds, I can show you. Sophy, what were you doing?"

Sophia seemed hesitant to answer. Whatever was stopping her didn't last more than a second or two. "I was about to press the panic button on my Ward phone."

"Why were you doing that?"

"Because you were mastering us."

"Bloody hell, I hate that verb. Why were you able to do so, if I was mastering you."

"When you turned around, when your voice changed, your control broke." Emma nodded in agreement with Sophia. That sounded about right to her as well. Wait. Taylor was mastering them? Was that even a proper verb?

"When my voice changed? What do you mean when my voice. . . oh. Fuck me. Fuck this shit. Fuck this whole bloody fucking situation." Taylor turned to the wall and began kicking it. "My power fucking turns off. When I change places the power fucking turns off. I can't just not give new commands, my old ones cancel. God damn this all to hell. This is fucked up."

Emma didn't really pick up on the details though, more concerned with figuring out how to fuck Taylor. She didn't quit have it all figured out yet, but taking off her cloths seemed a good first step, so she started unbuttoning her shirt, while Sophia was starting on the jeans.

Taylor, still looking at the wall, stopped kicking it, and sighed, resting her head on the wall in defeat. "Stop undressing. Just, sit on the bed, be quiet, and don't do anything. I'll be right back after I sort some things out with the parents."

Taylor was only gone for a little while, before she returned and locked the door behind her.

"OK, here's the deal little darling girls. It took a little convincing, but I've convinced them that, after our little talk, we've worked out a bunch of our issues and our friendship is on the mends, so the three of us are going to have a sleepover. Danny boy is going to be spending the night as well, in the guest bedroom, but he's going to be sleeping like a rock, no issue there. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be getting all that much sleep, given the work to be done. So, straight to the biggest issue. Sophia: do you think Taylor, me, has powers?"

"Yes."

"What do you think they are?"

"The ability to make people do things simply by telling them, so far with no obvious limits to the number and duration of control. However, there seems to be some sort of on/off switch to the power, and for some reason you find it desirable to have it off. You definitely have master powers."

"Hm, painfully close. Now, of your own free will, would you keep my power a secret?"

"No."

"Ah, as I figured. That 'no' is very much a problem. But, well, we have all night to turn that 'no' into a 'yes'. Emma, fix your shirt and make us some coffee or whatever the hell your house has with caffeine in it. We have a long night ahead of us."


	9. 1-9 Sophia

**1.9 Sophia**

This was the worst situation Sophia had ever been in.

She was sitting on Emma's bed, frozen. Taylor, weak pathetic Taylor, had master powers. Since she had been able to shut down Sophia's attack and her attempt to call for help in as many words, Taylor seemed to have very, very strong master powers.

However, the most concerning order of all was the seemingly accidental one to "fuck me." Because she had _felt_ desire. She could still feel the dull remains of overwhelming compulsion. She could still recall all of the thought she had put into how to complete that off-hand "command." How to do all of the things that order implied but did not explicitly state. This meant Taylor's power didn't control her body, it didn't move her about like some sort of flesh puppet. No, Taylor's power manipulated her mind until she _wanted_ to do Taylor's bidding. And it did so with frightening speed. If this power worked the way it seemed, then Taylor would be able to mold Sophia into what _Taylor_ wanted Sophia to be.

She could still think clearly, at least for now. She still had a chance to outsmart Taylor, despite her new-found powers. At least... she thought she could still think clearly. She hoped these were her thoughts.

She did her best to squash the panic before it could grow beyond control. _Get it together Sophia, your thoughts seem... no, they are clear right now. They are yours. We need to get out. We know the problem, now find the solution._

Her Ward Phone was on the desk where Taylor had placed it, just out of sight and far out of reach. Could she get it? No, she still couldn't move, or do anything useful.

She was not completely powerless, however. She could still watch, still observe, still stalk. That was something, and it was definitely useful. Every power had an arbitrary weakness, and Taylor was certainly no exception. She would find it and exploit it. Yes, she would stalk her prey, even if she could not move, and pounce the very moment an opportunity presented itself. It would require patience, vigilance, and ruthlessness, but those were things she had in spades. She would emerge victorious.

She looked to Taylor and found the girl massaging her temples, mumbling to herself. Good, at least her captor was distracted. For now. Maybe she got thinker headaches? It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Did she have to do anything however? Would help come its own? No. There was no help coming. Not soon. Not soon enough to save her. Not even soon enough that delaying Taylor, if she could delay Taylor, would matter. She would have to save herself tonight.

The bedroom door opened.

Her hopes were immediately dashed when it revealed, not some rescuer, but her fellow hostage, Emma, with a cup of coffee in hand and a smile on her face. Why? Didn't she realize what was going on? Did this mastering power have a stranger element to it? Could it make you forget you were being controlled? How long had Emma been under Taylor's control? How long did _she_ have?! No! She was a Survivor, she was definitely stronger than Emma. She was a cape, a hunter, Shadow Stalker. She would be able to fight through this, like every other obstacle in her life.

A traitorous part of her mind said that willpower alone had never, in the history of mankind, protected someone from a bullet, had never saved every other woman, every creature, rendered helpless by a hunter's trap. The will to resist meant nothing if resistance was rendered impossible.

NO! She was a Survivor, and she would Survive. She was not a victim, she was not prey who would lie down to die. She would resist until the end, no matter how hopeless the situation might seem. The first step towards failure, always, was to stop trying. She would try.

"Ah, thank you Emma, that coffee was just what the doctor ordered." Taylor took another sip of coffee, smelling the rising steam for a moment, before lowering the cup. "Well, now that I've been rejuvenated a bit, shall we get to it? I believe we've talked enough for now, Emma. It's Sophia's turn. Though I don't want you idle. Hm... tell you what, why don't you go over to that computer of yours, and type out a list of everyone you deeply care about, starting from most to least. Tell me everything important about these loved one's of yours. Be sure to include their names, work places, residences, phone numbers, why you love them, and anything else you think might be useful. This will definitely make me happy, and I think you will enjoy telling me about them, as well. Let me know when you have, let's say ten, and I'll let you know if its enough. Good? Now, get to work."

Emma, with a smile and an "OK", complied, and moved over to her computer and began typing away while Sophia silently cursed her helplessness. Her weakness had already cost her, she had momentarily lost track of her prey, had lost valuable opportunities to gain info and find a weakness to exploit.

"Now, Sophy, little shadow of a girl. Let's begin. First, are you expected anywhere tonight? Anyone who might need some... reassurance that you're just spending the night at your friend's house, and haven't been captured, or worse, by some shady individual you met on the streets?"

"No." She really wished that wasn't the case.

"Are you sure, no Ward check in? No concerned Parents?"

"No."

"Please explain. On both accounts."

"I just got off from the Wards, and tomorrow's a school day. They expect me to be fast asleep and wouldn't disturb me except in the case of a disaster. In which case they'd call me with the Ward Phone over there." She said, nodding toward the Phone. "As to Parents..." She paused, the question and answer for the Wards had come before she could mentally prepare, and wasn't too far from what she would normally discuss in this setting, anyway. He Parents, however, that was something she _never_ talked about to _anyone_ , and it seemed years of habit and resistance took some time to overcome. So she _could_ resist, at least a little bit.

"Sophy, please continue."

"My Mother doesn't really care what happens to me, and I don't her. I've been gone for days without ever bothering that bitch's drugged up head. The man who gave me the last name Hess was gone before I could remember him. Steven, Mother's second husband, killed himself, and I haven't bothered to keep up with her other boyfriends, or them me. There. Happy?"

"Quite, thank you for being so very open with me. I'm sure you don't share these things with many people."

 ** _Damn it!_ ** So she still couldn't exactly resist direct commands, no matter how distasteful. Still, there had to be some other options, something she was missing.

"Well, if we don't have to worry about any uninvited guests, let's move on to this Phone of yours. I believe you called it your "Ward" Phone? I take it isn't a normal, run of the mill phone then. Tell me about it."

And she did. Her compulsion to talk about the phone quickly overwhelming her desire to keep its workings secret. She told Taylor about the biometrics which read one's fingerprints and scanned the eyes of everyone who tried to use it and connected that to the activity they performed. She explained how secure the feed was, about its various abilities, about all the extra little things it did above and beyond any normal phone. That segued into a discussion of the security at the PRT building, at the Protectorate proper, and their general layout. Try as she might, she couldn't stop talking, and trying to think and remember all the requested facts was very distracting, making it increasingly difficult to think about a way out of this. It took a great deal of willpower to remind herself that overcoming Taylor was what she _wanted_ to think about, not the floor plan of the PRT building, as much as her traitorous brain tried to convince her it was the most important thing in the world right now.

"Taylor, I've got ten people written up." Emma's voice was like a sudden parting of the sea of sludge she was fighting against.

"Oh, righty oh. I'd nearly forgotten about you Emma darling. Sophy, be a dear and please collect your thoughts on everything you know about your fellow Wards and Heroes. We'll talk about them next."

And, like that, the sludge sea came surging back. Collecting her thoughts about the Heroes pushed nearly all other thoughts aside. It was only with great difficulty that she was able to keep some level of focus on what Taylor was doing. As said prey walked over to Emma and began reviewing... What had Emma been doing? _Remember Sophia, remember what... right! Loved ones! Something about loved ones!_ She was proud of this little victory.

Taylor also looked pleased. "Good job, Emma darling. I must say, this looks like a very complete list. 'A' for effort. Now, if you could do another little thing for me... Do you consider yourself an artists?"

"Um, I guess modeling is a type of art."

"Right, _that_ "art". A profession just a short hop away from the second oldest one. Well, I'd like you to try a different form of art, a little "creative writing" as it were. For a bit of fun and to flex those creative writing muscles, I would like you to write up a short little scene for each them. You have a good idea of what my power is, don't you?"

"I-I think so. It's a little hazy, but I think I have the gist of it."

"Good, wonderful. Now, I want you to imagine the worst possible thing I could do to these people, these ones you love, and write it down. Let's see how smart and creative you really are behind all the posturing. Be thorough, and remember, have fun!"

Emma gave every outward sign of enjoying herself. She smiled, she giggled, and occasionally she asked Taylor's opinion when she encountered an impasse on figuring out the worst possible things that could happen to those she cared for. Still, while she smiled, and laughed at the imagined suffering she was inflicting, it looked to Sophia that Emma's smile did not quite reach her eyes. Still, Sophia no longer really trusted her senses, and when Taylor's interest returned to her, she had precious little focus to spare on anything but her own survival against the barrage of questions and the burden of nearly twenty hours spent awake.

Taylor eventually started asking questions designed to make Sophia supply her own blackmail material, though Sophia was able to keep that truth in mind only with the great difficulty.

What had you done which the Wards would disprove of? What about you would make a normal person look upon you with disgust? What crimes had you committed? What proof of these crimes can be found? Give a detailed description of that man you killed, try to include enough to make a police sketch. In fact, why don't you make the sketch yourself. The _need_ to answer these questions, and more, overruled almost everything else, including what these questions were designed to do to her.

At some point during the interrogation, Emma completed her "Creative Writing Project", and Taylor spent some time reviewing it. Sophia savored these precious few moments to think for herself and desperately tried to find some sort of way out before Taylor's interest returned to her. Taylor, for her part, seemed to approve of Emma's "creative writing", and had her email it to an account neither of them recognized. That complete, Taylor declared herself "famished" and conscripted Emma to head downstairs and prepare an extensive midnight breakfast and a second pot of coffee.

"Oh, and Sophy dear, would you be ever so kind and type up all those horrible, horrible things you've done? I think such terrible sins deserve some extra documentation, and I'm far too busy to type them up myself. Well, chop chop, we don't have all night and you have _quite_ the list of sins to document. Please list them from "most upsetting to the Protectorate" to least. Well, work hard, and don't do anything else I would disapprove of, you know what I'm talking about. And remember: have fun!"

And she did. She had fun writing up every bad thing she had ever done, everything she had kept hidden from the Protectorate. Those few times she had done something to Mother which caused her regret. Every extra sin confessed brought a new feeling of playful enjoyment, driving her on to the next. The only thing ruining her fun was this nagging little voice that insisted that this was not her will, that she had to stop digging her own grave. It begged, in barely a whisper, to click on Emma's still open email and contact someone, anyone who could somehow help. But that voice was easy enough to ignore. After all, she had sins to confess and not a second to spare.

When Taylor returned from midnight breakfast with a cup of coffee in her hand and a pot of it in Emma's, Sophia was still barely through her most serious sins. Taylor seemed unsure of what to busy herself with while Sophia typed, so she took to rummaging through Emma's things. Eventually, she must have found a camera...

"Emma, darling? How would you rate yourself as a model?"

"I-I think I'm pretty good. I've definitely got the body for it."

"Hm, we'll see. Lets take some... practice shots. Yes Taylor, I am going somewhere with this, please be quiet. You'll see. This will go a ways toward furthering our goals."

Sophia heard Emma moving around on her bed, words from Taylor asking for different poses, Emma asking some clarifying questions before moving again. Followed by the fake shutter sounds of a digital camera going off before the process repeated again. Sophia's conscious mind barely registered any of it. After all, she still had _so many_ sins left to confess.

"I'm impressed, Emma. Turns out you're not quite all talk after all. There's at least a little substance to you. You will be very happy to hear that I think it's time to take your modeling "career" to the next level."

Emma gave a happy little giggle. "I am very happy I'm finally going to the next level. Um, what is the next level?"

"Well, so far you've done nothing but cutesy-kidy PG modeling. Eventually, however, every _serious_ model must grow beyond such things, and pursue some more... mature themes. The dividing line between a child and an adult model, of course, is when they pose for their first _nude shoot_. And I think you're ready."

"Um, are you really sure-"

"Of course I am, and you know you are too. Hold that thought, though." At that, Taylor turned around and faced a wall, having a somewhat whispered but still aggressive and annoyed conversation with herself. Sophia only picked out a couple of words that were used repeatedly, such as "necessary", "very effective blackmail", "not over the line" and "we've gone too far to change course". She took a few moments to resolve her conversation with... herself, though neither of the other girls in the room could really pay much attention to it. Ultimately, she ended it with a decision Taylor looked happy with.

"Now, where was I? Oh, right, Emma's first mature photo shoot! This is definitely the best time and place for it. After all. We're all friends here. Right girls?"

"Yes Taylor". Both said it more or less simultaneously.

"Excellent. Emma, this is the perfect time to... explore this new frontier of modeling for you: in the privacy and safety of your own home, surrounded by supportive friends. What do you say Emma? Don't you agree with me?"

"Yes, you're right. You're always right, Taylor."

"Yes, I am. Now, let's start slow. We'll work you out of those clothes one piece at a time. Ease you into it, and see how far we can go. Now, lets start with the those shirt buttons."

This continued for a while behind Sophia as she diligently typed out her sins... until she had finished and called out to Taylor. Sophia's new friend told Emma to hold her pose before putting down the camera to come over and review Sophia's work. This was the first time Sophia had a chance to turn around and look at what kind of modeling Emma had been up to while she had happily typed out her darkest secrets. Her pose was definitely suggestive, and what few garments she still wore left little to the imagination. Still, some corner of Sophia's mind did recognize it was a well done pose, and Emma was pulling it off fairly well, though the creeping signs of exhaustion and the excessively cutesy sheets on her bed somewhat undermined the whole effect.

"Well Sophy, my good friend, I have to say I'm... satisfied with your work. Not nearly as well written as Emma's, but I guess we all can't have the heart of an artist. Now, what shall I have you do next? Hm... Sophia, have you ever wanted to model like your good friend Emma over there?"

"No."

". . . Oh, right. Phrasing. Sophia. You want to model like your friend Emma. You've always secretly wanted to model. Right?"

"Yes, it's always been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember." She couldn't quite remember any of these previous episodes of desire, but she was certain they were there, somewhere in her memory.

"Wonderful! In that case, Emma, take a bit of a break. Lets both walk Sophia through her first modeling shoot. Sophia, you're going to go at least as far as Emma. I know it's your first shoot, but its only fair. Plus, Emma will enjoy the moral support of someone going through this transformation with her. Now, Sophia, just relax and have fun as your life dream comes true!"

And she did. As she worked through the poses and slowly shed her clothing... Eventually, Taylor decided some group shots, of both Sophia and Emma together, would be most excellent. Taylor was correct, this _was_ a fun and rewarding experience. Though she wondered why that was a surprise to her, given how she'd always wanted to be a model. It was a bit embarrassing at times, but Taylor was a great director and worked them through it, and they never did anything more than model. Well, Taylor did suggest some things that seemed to cross the line from mature modeling into something... else, but she always told them to stop before they went _too_ far and walked back from crossing that line.

"Well, I think we've done all the modeling I'm going to get away with tonight. And I'm out of coffee, besides. Emma, go make some more coffee while I download your wonderful work. Truly great work, I must say, from the both of you. Girls, this has been a wonderful evening. The night of your lives, I'm sure. And just think, it's only 3:00AM! We still have four more hours to make it even more memorable and productive before you two have to go off to school. And I think we'll be seeing each other again after school, as well. There is much more fun to be had yet."

Sophia couldn't help but agree. It _had_ been a wonderful night. So much had happened. She had confessed her sins, made friends with Taylor, and she had started her very own modeling career like she had, apparently, always wanted. It was definitely a great night and one she was sure she would remember for a very long time.

The only thing keeping it from being the _best_ night of her life was this peculiar feeling of crushing despair that radiated faintly from the core of her being. A feeling that she couldn't quite find any good cause of.

Authors Note

First, thank you for reading up to this point. I hope this was entertaining. At this point, I have some additional content, but I am without a Beta right now, my previous one having become indisposed. Thus, I am looking for someone who might be interested in Betaing for me. If you are interested, please PM me, and I'll figure it out from there.


	10. 1-10 Madison

1.10 Madison

Madison felt a tiny bit of a perverse satisfaction at the exhaustion on her friend's face. It meant she wasn't alone in having a restless night. When Sophia had suggested the possibility that Taylor could have gained powers, her imagination had gone into overdrive. Every bumped table was an invisible Taylor sneaking up on her, every odd behavior was the sign of someone possessed, every creak from the walls and ceiling the herald of a monstrous Taylor creeping up to stab her with a thrusting, piercing tong.

She really hated dad sometimes. What kind of father thought 8 was a reasonable age for late night viewing of _Alien_? And _The Thing_ was not a Christmas movie just because it had snow! _The Blob_ however was quite hilarious, and it was, admittedly, something of a morale booster to point out all the stupid thing the movie people did wrong and how much better she could have done. Once she could stand to look at the screen for extended periods of time of course.

What was she talking about again? Oh right! Fear for her life.

Well, it turned out she had squeaked at every little shadow for nothing. Emma had been able to talk to Taylor and her dad (hm, wonder what he was like) and Taylor had just broken out of the locker through normal means. Still, Madison had had some lingering doubts. So, she had made the perfectly reasonable request to come over for the evening (and maybe the night) today, a Friday. A perfectly reasonable day to have a sleepover.

Both Emma and Sophia had shot her down immediately. And they were annoyingly evasive about why, simply claiming they had "things to do."

Madison was quite perturbed that after all this work and how far she had gone against Taylor that the two were still treating her as a third wheel, and she really wanted more company than dad tonight. So she kept pushing. She deserved to be a full member of this group, and by god she was going to get in one way or another.

By about noon, they had relented, though not without conditions. This was apparently a very, very secret thing they were doing tonight. If she was going to come, she would have to give them her phone, and anything else she might have that could call, record, or take pictures of the secret place they were going to.

Madison had been somewhat wary about this, but she wiped it away with the logic that her two friends wouldn't demand something like that unless it was necessary, even if as just a loyalty test. The important thing was that they were offering her a chance to become more involved in the group and learn the secrets she knew these two were keeping from her. So she had agreed and handed her phone over once she had called dad to let him know she would be hanging out with her friends after school for a while.

She became more nervous when the trio had taken a bus to a bad part of town after school. She was nearly frightened when she saw the terrible looking building they were about to enter. The whole run down, boarded up windows look screamed "axe murder's lair."

"Um, girls, what are we doing here? We aren't going in ... there are we?"

"Yes. You scared? You chickening out?" Damn, Sophia sounded awful. Also pissed off, but that was normal.

"Um, well, no. I'm not chickening out. I'm coming. Wait up!" _Wow, you fell for the same trick as every other horror movie protagonist. Really?_

 _Shut up brain._ Yes, this did look like the set up to a bad horror movie, but as she kept telling herself, as she walked up the creaky stairs, past a flickering light, by doors held together with padlocks, she did not in fact live in a horror movie.

"Hey, which room are we supposed to be in?" Emma's tired voice was a jolt in the not quite mercifully silent hallway on the third floor. She had taken out her phone and was talking on it. "Ok, see you there." So, they were apparently meeting someone here. Did Emma and Sophia secretly do drugs? Were they introducing her to their dealer? Was there some way for her to politely refuse drugs without looking like a wimp? Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. "Well, this is the room."

Emma was standing before a door, a solid looking thing also held shut by a padlock. The little number plate was gone, but on the door someone had written in marker "333". Emma got on her knees and felt around the crack under the door until her fingers found what she had been searching for and pulled a piece of paper out. She cursed. Emma peaked under the door again.

"Frack it, the key fell off. Sophia, do you think you could help here?"

"How?"

"Your powers, of course."

Wait, Sophia had powers? Said girl turned into a black cloud and went through the door. OH MY GOD SOPHIA HAD POWERS! The black cloud came back through the door and solidified back into Sophia, holding a key which she handed to Emma.

With the key Emma opened the padlock and then the door. "Well, Sophia, care to lead the way?" Emma asked in a mockingly sweet tone. Sophia grumbled, but headed in.

Madison went in second, with a bunch more confidence. First, her two friends had just let her in on what was probably the big secret: Sophia was a Cape! Maybe this creepy looking place was her secret hideout? It being in the bad part of town made perfect sense then. Meant she didn't have to walk as far to see some action. It being in a nearly abandoned apartment building gave her some privacy and was probably the best Sophia could do with the realities of being a young cape. And even if this wasn't a secret hide out, with Sophia around she was sure they were safe from regular danger: Sophia was tough normally, one of the toughest girls at school. With powers, she could certainly wipe the floor with anyone they met. Save a real full-fledged Villain of course.

Emma took up the rear.

The room was fairly bare. There was one window, mostly boarded, with no real view but a nondescript alleyway with ABB gang signs. Otherwise this was one of the most barren rooms she had ever seen, with only a few phones in the middle of the room and a radiator with a few wires, a thick rug, tape, and… were those handcuffs?

click

Madison spun around. Emma had locked the door from the inside.

Madison did her best to squash a suddenly rising panic at being locked in a room with... those things by the radiator. Locking the door in a bad part of town made perfect sense. If Sophia was a hero, it would be perfectly reasonable she might have to detain some criminal for any number of reasons. She was about to start speaking when Emma shouted

"GET HER NOW!"

At which Sophia slammed into Madison's back, driving her to the floor. Sophia was much stronger and much more experienced. Madison however was well rested, and had just been pushed into full panic mode.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING LET GO OF ME!"

"Emma help me! Gag her!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN LET GO SOMEONE HElphh..." Madison was silenced when Emma had shoved her scarf into Madison's mouth. Emma tried to tie it in place, but Madison knew this was likely her last chance and kept thrashing, making it difficult.

It took both of them sitting on Madison to keep her pinned. Eventually Madison's body, which could hardly be called athletic, lost out to gravity and she became too tired to keep up her fierce resistance. Even then it still took some effort for her two friends to successfully drag her to the radiator.

Madison got a second wind right before they cuffed her to it and broke free of her friends, rushing to the door, but it was still padlocked and the other two quickly caught up and subdued her again, dragging her back to the radiator and this time successfully securing her to it, along with other restraints.

Both Sophia and Emma were very tired from the whole fight, especially when piled on top of their immense fatigue. Madison for her part kept trying to break free from the radiator, but without success. All her efforts got was more restraints to keep her from moving around and kicking so much. The scarf had also been replaced by tape. At least the rug made "sitting" more comfortable. A very small favor though.

Their work done, a panting Sophia was the first to speak. "Well Madison. I have to hand it to you. You're quite the fighter. I think you might be a survivor after all. I can't deny it after a fight like that." If this was what it took to win Sophia's praise, Madison thought she could do without it. "Well, that out of the way, Emma, what does Taylor want us to do next?"

Suddenly, Emma's phone went off. "... Yes Taylor, Madison is subdued. What do we do next?"

Why would Emma be taking order from... Oh. Oh no. Madison snapped her head back into the radiator. And then immediately regretted it since hitting your head on a radiator hurt.

She was such an idiot. All that worry, and she had missed so, so many signs. It looked like she wasn't as superior to those people in the movies as she liked to think. Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.

Now she was going to be at Taylor's mercy. And after everything they'd done there probably wasn't much of that left.

Still, this was Taylor, even if she had super powers. Taylor was, nice might be the nicest way to put it. Whatever she was planning for revenge, It was probably at best proportional to what they'd already done. And Taylor had certainly survived all of that.

Yes, at this point, the best thing to do, now that she could think rationally, (because fight or flight had been exhausted) was take the licks Taylor wanted to dish out, and move on. She might be in for a bit of unpleasantness, but it probably wasn't anything she couldn't walk away from. She hoped she could trust in Taylor still being Taylor.

All the same, this seemed a good time to have a good long cry.


	11. 1-11 Taylor

1.11 Taylor

"I'm so sorry Madison."

Taylor shivered at the sound of Kilgrave's voice. Well, her voice. For now. She had been trapped in this body for twenty hours, and its wrongness had only grown over time. He reached farther, his steps were longer, his footfall louder. And his hair. Compared to her long swaying curls, she felt almost bald. Even his eyes saw things differently, and the differences went beyond his perfect vision. Everything was wrong. She so desperately wanted out.

But it had been necessary, she reminded herself. Emma and Sophia were too dangerous to be left alone. They had to be dealt with. Kilgrave had been very persuasive on that point. So she had watched, had occasionally helped, as Kilgrave did terrible things to people she had every right to hate. Who deserved worse.

At least, she tried to tell herself that. That she was not the bad guy. A great lie. She was the one making them suffer. She could see it on the screens.

No! That person on the screens wasn't her. Kilgrave was the one doing horrible things. Not her. Kilgrave was the on acting on the screens, and what was happening was beyond her control. The trio had pushed things beyond her control. She was just a bystander at this point, watching events unfold. By someone with her face and her voice. Someone she could stop with the press of a button.

Twenty hours in this man's body, watching your own body, was far too long. It hurt her brain to try to understand it, and her heart had to be breaking trying to accept it. She guessed that meant she was still a good person.

"Love, how are things going?" Her voice! No. That was Kilgrave. Well, Kilgrave talking to her in her voice. She shook her head, hoping to clear the confusion, the worry, the regret. Everything. They were too far in, whatever her fault, whatever the blame, it was too late to turn back now. She pressed the speak button.

"Sorry, yes. I mean - yeah. They've almost got Madison tied up. She put up quite a fight, but it's almost over. That was smart of Emma to lock the door behind them."

"Good girls. Keep an eye on them and let me know when it's time to move. You ready Miss Hebert? You're going to be crucial to the next step."

"Yes. We've practiced this all day. I can do it. I just want this to be over."

"Don't we all, darling, don't we all."

Taylor gave a sigh before resuming her vigil on the Viewers. Viewer One was focused on Taylor's body—on Kilgrave—who was leaning against a wall in the apartment building. The second was looking at the other side of that wall, where Madison was being locked to the radiator.

"OK Kilgrave. Madison's tied up. Get ready to call them."

"Righty oh, I'll start on your signal."

"OK." Sophia was saying something about respecting Madison. "OK, call them… now."

Kilgrave took things from there, talking Emma and Sophia through how to get themselves restrained, Sophia first, doing some tests to make sure the makeshift wiring was enough to keep her from phasing through, filling in some gaps they found. Once Sophia was set, Emma deposited her phone on the other side of the room, unlocked the door and got herself cuffed to the radiator with the other two. Kilgrave then walked over, relocked the door from the outside and returned back to the opposite room. The whole time, Taylor kept vigil the best she could as her brain continued to have difficulty deciding whether she was doing this, or this was all just something happening on TV.

Taylor looked at the Control Room's clock. Now all they had to do was wait another two hours or so. While the primary goal was to keep the trio quiet, there was a second goal of testing Kilgrave's powers. They'd already confirmed the power couldn't work over the phone, though telling the two to "do what Taylor says" had created more or less the same effect. Now they needed to test the time limit: Kilgrave was "pretty certain" his power had a 12-hour time limit, but he said that limit had "varied" and he wanted to make sure it still held true.

So they had to just sit and wait until Kilgrave's power wore off. It was a long wait. Taylor kept herself occupied practicing her talk and keeping Kilgrave filled in on the situation. Madison ran out of tears and just sort of whimpered quietly.

Finally, Emma's unnatural calm started to break, almost right on schedule, being replaced by a look of confusion before giving way to panicked heavy breathing and finally muffled crying through her gag. Sophia seemed to break out of it a few minutes later, though it was much more subdued. She didn't fight, she didn't curse, she didn't panic. Her calm merely turned to a quiet, what was that? Acceptance? Despair? Taylor didn't know.

"OK, Kilgrave. Looks like your power's worn off. I'm about to switch."

"About time. Well, get on with it." Taylor closed her eyes and pressed the button. When she opened them again she was back in her precious, wonderful body. She looked at her hands in wonderment.

"I'm me again. I'm me again!" In that moment, all worry was replaced by simple joy.

"I can certainly sympathize. I think we're probably both quite happy to be back in our respective places. I would much prefer we avoid any future extended stays if at all possible. I can't for the life of me find anything enjoyable about being subject to your little girly limbs and whims."

Taylor tucked in her arms. "So... I guess we need to get this over with?"

"Well, once you're ready and all adjusted of course. There's no harm in making that terrible trio over there stew a bit longer. Take your time and do this when you're ready. Just don't take too long."

Taylor gladly complied, stretching, walking, and enjoying the sound of her very own voice saying her very own words. After about fifteen minutes of delay though she could practically feel Kilgrave getting impatient and decided that she couldn't delay this any longer. As indifferent as Kilgrave was, she had a responsibility to make sure the trio suffered as little as possible. For their sake, she made her way over to give her speech.

She did not make the grandest of entrances. First she nervously fumbled with the key to get the door unlocked. Then she awkwardly shuffled into the middle of the room, barely making eye contact with any of them despite Kilgrave's suggestions. After a moment of silence, the trio because of the gags and Taylor out of nervousness, she finally broke it with a lame "Hello. How are you?"

Blank stares greeted her.

"Sorry, stupid question." She did her best to focus her gaze back onto the three tied to the radiator. "I think we've all been better. Still, past is present. Wait I mean, um, shoot. Uh, basically we have issues we need to deal with. And I really hope we can deal with it quickly. Without hurting anyone."

A long awkward silence greeted her. "Ms. Hebert, you do remember that they're all gagged. Right?" Right, that. Part of the whole plan to make it easier to deliver this speech.

"Um, so. You all should know by now that I have, well, superpowers. According to Sophia they're very strong superpowers. However they're not exactly the most, well, seemly or heroic. They're actually very scary and creepy. I can certainly attest to that. So, uh, I'd really like you three to keep them secret. From everyone. Which is why he... why I made you come here. To make you stay quiet, in whatever way necessary."

Well, that could have gone better, but she had got out the gist of it. She even made that last threat decently. Now, the hard part: she had to make them choose the right choice, the only option she was willing to go through with.

"So there's uh, well, three ways we - I can keep you quiet. First, I can ki – I can make you go away. Disappear. End. That would be extremely easy with my powers. I'm sure you all know what almost happened to Emma in the alley across the street."

She was answered with two nods and a puzzled look from Madison.

"Oh, um, I guess they didn't tell you?"

Madison shook her head.

"Well, darn. I guess I need to explain it for the threat to make any sense. So, the cliff notes version is that the ABB were about to, more or less, slowly I think, well, chop Emma into bits. Some sort of initiation thing. Or sell her into slavery. I don't exactly remember the exact details. Only found out about it last night myself. And Sophia, or Shadow Stalker as I hope you've figured out by now, saved her, so it didn't actually happen. This event somehow convinced Emma to break off our friendship and torture me for two years. I still don't really get it, though she's explained it to me. Several times in fact.

But yeah, the point is, around here, there's plenty of orders I can give which would end in your completely un-suspicious deaths. They would have no reason to suspect foul play. Well, foul play on my part at least.

Sophia, you'd be even easier. I'd just have to order you to make a mistake on your patrols and get shot by some random thug, or tell you to do something really crazy, like pick a solo fight with Lung. Given your record, it's likely none of the other wards would suspect anything out of the ordinary on your part.

So, yeah. That makes sense to everyone?"

She got a frantic nod from Emma, a resigned nod from Sophia, and, well, Madison seemed to have gone paler and froze a bit, but that looked like it might have been a nod. At least it looked like all of them got the idea and she wouldn't have to keep dwelling on this unpleasantness.

"So, yeah, I don't think any of you particularly like that option. And as, well, terrible as you three have been I don't really want to ki- well, end you either. But, um, if you make me choose between my life and, well, yours, you can probably guess which I'll choose."

Let them know your not a monster, but that you will choose yourself over them if they force it. Make yourself the reasonable, restrained one, and put the ball in their court: make it their decision to behave badly, not yours.

"So... next we have option two. You don't die, but, uh, it's probably, um, yeah probably worse. Two of you know what being under, uh, my control for a while is like. Yes? You do both remember, right? I'm not sure if this power affects memory at all."

Nods of affirmative from the two experienced girls.

"So, yeah. Good. Option two, basically, is that I keep you under my control just, all the time. It would take a bit of scheduling to get it all to work, but I'm pretty sure I could keep you three under my thrall all the time. This is obviously not fun for any of us. But it's an option. Do you girls want to explore it more?"

Very strong noes from all in front of her. Good. Taylor wasn't really willing to go through it either. She would basically have to live in Kilgrave's body full time. But as Kilgrave said, laying out all the more terrible things you could do made your final, less terrible offer more appealing.

"So then. Option three. My preferred option. You keep your life, your free will"

Well, mostly, but she didn't need to draw attention to that in the pitch. Kilgrave really was scary good at this whole manipulation thing.

"and just go on with your life"

Again, mostly.

"after promising not to tell anyone. Of course, I'd have to apply some, uh, conditions. Yeah. So I could make sure you really are keeping the secret."

Said conditions, of course, will be explained only after you've gotten them to agree to the deal. Explaining them first might make them think they're negotiable.

"But, they're pretty reasonable. Now, if you break your promise there would of course be, well, consequences. First, of course, we could revert to option one and two. Even if you three escaped my power directly, I would have many, many ways to- um, uh..."

"Punish, Taylor, the word your looking for is Punish. Good job so far though, just keep it going to the end darling. Remember, be confident."

"Thanks. Oh, punish. That's the word. I have many other ways to punish you. First, there's your family and loved ones. You know I could hurt them. Two of you have already told me exactly how to hurt them.

Second, there's blackmail. I have everything I've collected on you two, and I can make that you three if necessary, and I have copies of it on the three phones behind me. If you agree to option three, those phones will be our personal way to communicate, just for us. And if I need an extra supply of the blackmail, I can get it off any of your phones. It can also serve as a, shall we say, reminder of what you risk if you tell. Of what could happen if you're other, companions, tell."

Now, it was time to wrap up the performance with the big reveal.

"Finally, if all else fails, if somehow you defeat me entirely in some great clever plan, there's Kirby. Kirby? Are you here?"

The phone in her pocket rang. Taylor answered and put it on speaker phone, filling the room with the voice of one of her least favorite people: Kilgrave.

"Well hello to you to Ms. Hebert. And of course I'm here. I'm always here. But enough about me, I need to introduce myself to these fine little things on the wall. Hello girls. It is good to finally, formally introduce myself after watching you little nosy things for so long. Our dear little Emma already knows me as 'Kirby', my 'screen name' as Taylor so delicately explained. As far as you three scoundrels need to know, that's my civilian identity. If you absolutely need to give me a hero name, you could call me 'Vision'. Unfortunately not particularly flashy or notable, but given my role in this, fitting."

Kilgrave had the trio's full attention. Taylor marveled how Kilgrave, without a single use of his power, could take control of an entire room.

"Now, I've got a particular set of powers which, well, you don't really need to know. All you need to know is my powers alerted me to Taylor's immense, shall we say, potential. I got in contact with her and we both agreed that if we partnered together we could make quite the team and do a great deal of good in the world. The two of us had plans, plans you three unfortunately interfered with. Now, Taylor, bless her heart, is an incredibly nice girl. Almost too nice if I say so myself. She wanted to give you the option to save your life and freedom. I wanted to just get this over with and end you."

Taylor knew Kilgrave was just playing a role, bad cop to her good cop. Trying to make her seem better than she knew she was. A better person wouldn't have gone this far. But, the past was the past, and all that remained was forward. And a compliment was a complaint, no matter which horse's mouth it came from.

"Her outstanding sense of right and wrong is one of her great assets to our team. Helps us both stay on the straight and narrow. But, if you were to do something to my little Taylor here, well, you wouldn't like to see what I can do without my little cricket reigning me in. Taylor's power can certainly be quite frightening. I can be much, much worse.

But, little caged birds, if you are willing to accept Taylor's very generous terms and conditions, you three won't ever have to see how bad I can be. Well, I've said my part. I'll leave it to Taylor to wrap up the proceedings." And at that, he hung up and Taylor pocketed the phone.

"So, well, you've met Kil- I mean Kirby. I trust you all fully understand the choice I've offered you. Now who wants option one, death?"

Universal nods of no, Emma and Madison quick, Sophia taking a worryingly long time to seemingly consider it before also nodding no.

"Very well, we have zero votes for option one. Now, how many for option two, constant slavery?"

None of the girls required any thought to reject that one.

"Once again, no votes for option two. So, I assume you all agree to option three, keeping secrets?"

All agreed, Madison eagerly, Emma in defeat, and Sophia once again after taking a concerning amount of time to consider it.

"And I also assume you now fully understand the price of abusing my mercy?"

Also universal nods, though universally reserved.

"Very well then." Taylor walked over to Emma, and undid her gag. "Now, tell me…" She closed her eyes. When she opened them again she was back in Kilgrave's body.

"Of your own free will, will you keep my secrets?"


	12. 1-12 Taylor

1.12 Taylor

 _Beep. Beep. Beep_.

"Ugh". Taylor looked at her blasted clock.

7:30. Same time as every other day. Still too early for a good night's sleep.

Taylor shuffled out of bed, being careful not put pressure on her still injured arm. She had made good progress in the last month, and if all went well the cast would be off in another. Taylor was dedicated to it going well.

She picked out her new clothes for the day.

"Kilgrave, you there?" Thankfully, there was no answer.

That man seemed to despise early mornings, sometimes not even bothering to wake up before noon. That meant she could do her other morning rituals in privacy. Hopefully.

She had no way of actually knowing what that man was doing in his bunker. Even if he wasn't up yet, the viewers did have a recording function. He'd promise not to peek on her, but in the end there was no way to know. The best thing at this point was to take him on his word, as foolish as that was. If he was spying there was nothing she could do about it, and whatever he was really doing, believing he respected her privacy at least that much made life easier.

After finishing getting dressed in a polo shirt and shorts, Taylor went downstairs and got breakfast ready for her and dad. The two engaged in a bit of light chit chat before getting in the car.

Danny dropped her off at the same place she'd been dropped off for the last month: Emma's house. She rang the doorbell and was greeted by Zoe Barnes, Emma's undeniably beautiful redheaded mother. Emma had once bragged that her mother could have gotten anyone she wanted at college, and middle school Taylor had never doubted it. Zoe was the kind of woman who stood out by how well she fit in, and had seemed the model of the perfect lady. While Taylor had developed a more critical eye of Zoe with age and the falling out with Emma, she couldn't deny Alan had been a very lucky man in college.

Zoe had taken on the task of watching over Taylor during the day. The explicit excuse was so there would be someone to help her with her broken arm and to make sure she didn't use her break from school to slack off too much. The real excuse, which they had confirmed when Kilgrave had finally figured out how to hack Zoe's email, was that Danny was worried about Taylor having another "breakdown" and didn't want her left alone all day. Taylor had accepted the arrangement. It was nice to have company, and it helped with her other plans.

It was not however all that great when Emma was still there. It gave a very awkward start to the day.

"Hey Emma. Good?"

"Yeah Taylor. It's good. I guess. What are you doing with my mom today?" Emma cast a glance back at her mother, who was now finishing up the dishes. Emma had gotten better at hiding how ill at ease she was with this whole set up. Taylor didn't really blame her.

"Oh, I don't know. I think she's planning to have me help her carry some shopping and teach me a bit of knitting or something old lady like that. Before sitting me down to do my reading. Should be fun."

Zoe gave a little laugh. "Well Taylor, if you don't learn how to be an old lady now, I can guarantee you won't be prepared when you have to deal with the real thing."

Emma gave a sigh and one last glance at her mother, probably confirming Taylor hadn't caused her to spontaneously combust since she last looked. "Well, don't have too much fun with all your freedom Taylor. Since you're already here, you have any homework you'd like me to turn in?"

"Oh right, I guess this stuff can be turned in today. Let me just get it out of my bag." Taylor took a moment to marvel as she just handed her homework over to Emma. With the full expectation it would reach its destination perfectly intact. That would have been unthinkable last month. Alan appeared shortly thereafter and took Emma off to school.

With Emma gone, leaving Taylor and Zoe alone, it was much more pleasant. They really did start off the day doing some shopping, Zoe turning it into some sort of friendly lecture about this or that product, what you looked for in tomatoes, that kind of thing. They met one or two friends of Zoe (Zoe had a lot of friends) and they talked while Taylor politely hovered.

Once shopping was done, they returned to Emma's home and Taylor helped prepare a fruit salad before once again leaving the house to have something like a picnic with some other wives of lawyers at a tennis court. Zoe played a few games while the other ladies chatted up Taylor, who mostly escaped physical activities thanks to her cast.

Zoe bought her a tennis dress when she found out Taylor didn't have one. Kilgrave let her know that he was up, had done the reading, and would type up tonight's homework for Emma to print out tomorrow. After that he didn't bother her a bit. It was an overall enjoyable time till she began saying her goodbyes. One of the older ladies parted company with the words "Mr. Hebert must be just so proud of his little girl. You're going to make a wonderful wife someday."

Taylor didn't say much after that. Zoe could tell something was bothering her, but kept her silence, letting Taylor talk when she was ready. As they were pulling in, Taylor spoke.

"Miss Barnes, could I take a shower before I start studying?"

"Certainly dear. You will never see me argue against a child who wants to be clean. I'm sorry you didn't have a good time."

"What? No, I had a good time. I'm happy you bring me around."

"Child, I'm a mother and we mothers all have a sense of these things. And you do not have the voice or face of someone who had a good time."

"Well your -. I did have a good time. Mostly. One of the ladies just said something that got me thinking."

"Was it about you being a good wife one day?" By Taylor's reaction, it was. "Why is that bothering you? It's quite a compliment from a group of housewives like us."

"It's just that, I'm not sure I would. Or I could."

"Oh, you're being too hard on yourself like you always are. I can tell you right now you'd be a better wife and mother than 90% of those people who call themselves a lady. But if you don't want to be one, that's fine as well. I'm sure you would succeed in whatever you wanted to do, though I think it would be a bit cruel to deny yourself the joys of children and your father grandchildren."

Taylor seemed to retreat into herself. Zoe realized she had crossed some sort of line. Taylor was, despite everything Zoe saw in her, a delicate flower. Just as her own daughter had been after that horrible gang attack. She just needed support and time. She was determined to do better with Taylor than she had done with her own daughter.

"But, you're a long, long way from having to make any decision on that. I was nearly six years older than you when I married Alan. Your parents were the same. And many women don't choose one way or another these days for a decade or more past where you are now. Go clean yourself up and put this out of your mind for now."

"Thanks Zoe." Taylor quickly made her way upstairs to Emma's room where she stored some spare clothes and other loose ends. She had initially been wary of this arrangement, worrying that Emma would mess with her stuff while she was away. It had taken nearly a week for the new reality to really sink in, that Emma wouldn't dare mess with her stuff. Not anymore.

"Kilgrave, Kilgrave you there?" After a brief delay, he responded in her head.

{Yes, what do you want?}

"I'm about to take a shower. Could I have some privacy?"

{... you called me over to ask me to not be over here.}

"Yes, as we've established a dozen times before. I'm really not in the mood for your games right now."

{Darling, you never seem to have time for your good friend Kilgrave.}

"Maybe once I have a friend who goes by that name, I'll make some space in my busy calendar. And I said I'm not playing your games. Leave me be."

{Fine, fine, I'll turn the Viewers off for an hour.}

"Make it two. I'm planning to take a very nice shower."

Kilgrave gave a sigh. {Have it your way then. I'll turn them off for two full hours. If you get in trouble while I'm gone, you're on your own darling.}

"Yes yes, goodbye now Kilgrave. Unless you want me to start calling you Kirby."

{Taylor, you're just too cruel. Goodbye then. See you in an hour. Sorry, two.}

After about five minutes of silence, Taylor felt safe to let the act go. She could now deal with the real issue privately. Still, she waited until she had gotten in the shower, the curtain and the water providing just a little extra privacy, before she started to think about her future. Or lack of it.

Taylor had never really thought about her distant adult future with its adult problems and adult ways. When she would be like Dad or like... like mom had been. But while she had never really thought about her future normal adult life, she didn't think anyone her age really did, she had never doubted she could have one.

Despite her shortcomings in femininity, there were certainly many men who would be willing to settle for her. She was a good student, and could probably get a good job. Maybe not a great one, but good shouldn't be too hard. She could probably pull off being a mom as well as mom had. Taylor figured mother had done a good job on her, especially since her time was so unfairly cut short. Sophia was living proof that some mothers couldn't raise a good daughter given all the time in the world.

Yes, Zoe and the old lady had been right. Taylor could have been a good wife, a good mother. But Taylor was no longer Taylor. Taylor was a package deal now. A package deal with an immoral, manipulative psychopath who lived in her head. You couldn't get one without the other. You couldn't have Taylor without Kilgrave. Not anymore.

What man would want a wife with that kind of baggage? She tried to imagine someone who could love her and live with Kilgrave. All of them fell into two categories: men she didn't want to touch with a 30 foot pole and men who deserved far better.

And her children. She could just picture them through the haze of a false memory. What kind of mother would let her children anywhere near Kilgrave? He would certainly have some impact on them. He would corrupt them, at best. At worst, well, there was always a worse when it came to Kilgrave. No matter how good a mother she tried to be, how hard she tried to protect them, there was no way she could protect them from the monster in her head. The best thing she could do for her children would be to send them far away from her. Maybe Emma would find a good husband and could take them in. It would be better than a life with her.

Under the cover of the shower she let her tears flow, spiraling down the drain to the deepest depths, following her thoughts. In this moment, it was safe to be weak, to let her sadness and despair flow. But all good things must come to an end.

Her little timer buzzed, letting her know her moment of privacy was nearly at an end. She dried off the water and her tears, got dressed, and stared into the mirror until she looked as normal as possible. As calm as possible. Then she left the bathroom.

"Kilgrave, you can resume you stalking." It didn't take long for him to respond.

{Darling, I'm not sure you can count it as stalking when it's consensual.}

"Sure. If that helps you sleep."

{I can assure you that I sleep like a rock. I don't need a sounder sleep. Did you have a good shower?}

"Yes. It was relaxing. Well except for the shampoo I got in my eyes."

{Are you alright?}

No, Kilgrave. I am not alright. Everything is wrong. My entire life is wrong. But at this point I'm coming to terms with that. I've accepted the things I cannot change. Like Kilgrave. Kilgrave is part of my life now, and will always be part of my life. I've accepted that.

"No." Stupid mind control powers. "Can we move this conversation to the phone?"

{Oh, sure. You want to tell me what's wrong?}

"No."

{OK then. I'll call.}

It took a little while for the phone she'd bought with money she'd "borrowed" from Emma to ring. The caller ID showed the call originating from Emma's house. Though some method they couldn't understand, Kilgrave's bunker's phone hacked into the nearest phone line to make a call. Same with his internet access. And it didn't hack a signal or wifi. Kilgrave had still been able to make calls and access the internet near a jammer Sophia had borrowed from work. Instead, as best they could tell it seemed to physically connect to the actual wiring somehow, and it seemed to have enough range to find some sort of phone or internet line pretty much anywhere in the city. It meant Kilgrave could generally contact someone whenever he wanted, but you couldn't actually call him.

"OK Taylor, you're sure everything is fine? I don't want to be blindsided by disaster just because you're keeping secrets. If I'm going to have to deal with something, I'd prefer to do it now while nothing is happening."

"I'm fine. There's no disaster coming down the horizon. It's just teenage moodiness."

"I know you're lying Taylor."

"And?"

"Well, I figured you'd want to know that I know. I'll let this go for now, but if you insist on lying, you really should get better at it."

"Between you and all the practice I'm getting since my entire life is turning into a big lie, I'm sure I'll be a master of it before long. Now can you stop faking concern for my wellbeing?"

"My you are getting snappy. Is that all?"

"In fact, no. You see, the shower gave me a long time to think on things. I think we need to accelerate the hero plan."

Now that I've made peace with what I can't change, I can now focus on the things I can, the ways I can still help. Like saving the lives of those who still have a future, those who still have a chance to live free.


	13. 1-13 Sopia

1.13: Sophia  
Sophia jumped onto the next rooftop, settling like a fog on the other side before partially re-materializing continuing her run at a speed no normal human could long sustain before jumping again.

It had already been a long night, and Sophia wanted this done with as soon as possible. She had just finished a night patrol for the Wards, a long dull patrol where she had stayed in safe areas and done absolutely nothing. Normally she would have used the end of the official patrol to go find some real action, to find something she could hurt. But now, she couldn't, because of Taylor's "conditions". The main one being that the trio had to report fairly regularly so Taylor could "ask" some questions, making sure none of them had betrayed that bitch yet.

Thus Sophia found herself running across the rooftops of a dull, safe, boring neighborhood for a quick chat. A massive, massive waste of time. Not as massive a waste of time as jail, she had to remind herself, which was what she would get if the Protectorate found out about her accidental vigilante killings, or dead, if Taylor got to her first, but a waste of time none the less.

Finally she reached Taylor's house. They had agreed that at this hour Taylor's house was the most convenient. Sophia made a final leap, aimed at Taylor's bedroom window, and landed on the other side.

Taylor, like always, was sitting on her bed, completely unsurprised as Sophia's arrival. By all rights Sophia should have caught the girl by surprise at least once. She must have had some way of seeing her approach. Probably the work of that Vision creep. "Hey Sophia. Good to see you. Are you tired? Would you like some food? You must be hungry." Strange. Normally Taylor was as eager to get Sophia out of her house as Sophia was to leave.

Still, Taylor was one of the few people in her life that Sophia had to treat with respect. "While I ... appreciate the offer, wouldn't you prefer to just get this over with, I have stuff to do. I'm sure you do to."

"Oh. Um, I was actually hoping you could stay around awhile. Do you like fried chicken?"

Sophia looked over and spotted food on Taylor's desk. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She took a seat at the desk where she could still keep her eyes on Taylor. "Is it because I'm black?"

"...huh?"

"The Fried Chicken."

The sputtering denials almost made the forced stay worth it. Really, Sophia had no idea how Taylor could still be so sensitive to such things. She was a Winslow student after all. It really shouldn't have been so easy to get under her skin.

Sophia began slowly eating the meal once Taylor sputtering was done. She savored the chicken, which was good, and she was hungry. But, most importantly, it left Taylor awkwardly sitting on her bed, twiddling her thumbs. Sophia marveled at the difference between Taylor with her power on vs off. She had figured out that Taylor's power somehow messed with her mind as well. Thus, unlike all the other capes Sophia knew, Taylor seemed to hate using her power. As far as she could tell, asking the three of them a few questions every day was all the use it got. Sophia was glad her powers didn't mess with her mind.

That uncomfortableness with her own powers left Sophia some wiggle room when dealing with Taylor. True, Taylor's power could make Sophia do whatever Taylor wanted with a word. But, since Taylor hated using her power, she would only use her power as a last resort. Thus Sophia could, if not quite disobey, delay or inconvenience Taylor, up to a point. It was petty and inconsequential rebellion, but it was something, which was better than nothing.

Having finished the meal, delaying a few more seconds to take a drink, Sophia stopped pushing her luck and got down to business.

"Thanks Taylor. That was good. Thanks for the bribe, as unnecessary as it is. I'll take a bribe over mandatory charity any day. So, what are you bribing me for?"

Taylor was clearly slightly ticked off by her bluntness. Little victories. "Well, fine, be that way. You know I want to be a hero, right?"

"Sure."

"So, I'll probably have to fight someone, at some point."

"Um, I guess that's possible, though I'm not sure why given your power."

"Let me worry about that. So, Sophia, you're good at fighting, right? The Protectorates taught you stuff, right?"

Sophia could see where this was going, but was in no mood to help Taylor get there. "I guess I'm pretty good. What of it?"

"Well, I was thinking, since you have to come over anyways, maybe you could, maybe, train me, a bit?"

Sophia looked at Taylor's still casted arm. "Well, I guess I could show you a thing or two. But we should probably wait till you've healed up."

"I don't want to wait that long. Please, I'm sure there's something we can work on while this heals."

Sophia considered. On the one hand, Taylor clearly really wanted this, and if she made this an order, she wouldn't be able to refuse. Which honestly made the other hand irrelevant. She was going to have to do this, the best she could do now was get any concessions she could out of her.

"Sure, I'll help you a bit. Just keep in mind Ward stuff will comes first, we don't want then getting suspicious after all. I'll do my best, don't worry about me slacking off or something, but if I tell you I won't have time to stay and teach, I'd like you to leave it at that."

"Ok, that's reasonable."

"Second, food would be nice. I do have to come in from a long day, and a meal will help. Third- "

"Sophia. I'm happy to make food, and the need to get other things done is understandable." There was a brief pause. "But please, remember who you're talking to and don't press your luck."

"Hmf. Fine, I guess. So, you want to start now?"

"That would be good, yes."

"Let's start then." Sophia got up and waved Taylor to do the same. "I'll start you out with a basic transitionary stance." Sophia stepped into it. "It's not that stable as stances go, but that instability lets you quickly slide into other stances, and learning to make it stable will help with your overall balance and body awareness. Now you try."

Taylor, did, and it was bad. "Ugh. This is going to be a long night. That is wrong in so many ways. Let me show you." Sophia started walking over to fix the half dozen mistakes she could see from here.

"Put your weapons on the table first." Sophia immediately turned around and started unloading everything on her that she considered a weapon. The crossbows and bolts, a couple of small knives she hid on her person, the zip cords, and a couple of other random blunt objects. Once she was done, still facing away from Taylor, she felt the compulsion leave as Taylor's power turned off. "I'm so sorry Sophia, I didn't mean, I mean, well. We're not exactly friends, I have to be careful. You know?"

Sophia stared into her own angry eyes. She then closed them, took a deep breath, and forced a smile onto her face. She'd been subject to this for a month now. She was, somewhat, used to this. And at this point, there was nothing to be gained from visibly getting mad. She was Taylor's prisoner, always, but she could be her slave, and prisoner was better than slave. So she smiled and tried to keep her raging emotions out of the voice.

"Sure Taylor. I understand. Just ask normally next time, if you can. Will you let me help you now?"

"Um, yes. To both."

So Sophia got to work. She grabbed Taylors armed and shifted it up and to the left a bit. Made her firm up her wrist. Twist her foot a little bit to the right. A half dozen small improvements to get the pose correct. Sophia mentally patted herself on the back for resisting the urge to be rough about it.

"And that's it. You've got a good feeling now of how the pose is supposed to be?"

"Um, I think so."

"Good. Now hold it." Sophia then walked away and took a seat at her chair, and continued to nurse her drink.

"Uh, for how long?"

Sophia delayed a response till the cup was back on the table. "Until I tell you to stop." She then lifted her glass for another drink.

Small victories.

Author's Notes

So, with this chapter 1 is finally, finally done. Things got busy and updating this fell far down my priorities. Glad I finally got this chapter done. In the next chapter, A bump in the night, Taylor will start her illustrious career as a hero and get into her first cape fight. Should be fun.

It should be shorter than this one, and more straightforward, especially since I know pretty much exactly what I need and want to happen, but getting it out will of course depend on the existence of time and will to keep working on it.

As aways, if you have any opinion of the story, please share it in the comments. As an author, I live for the feedback on this story, and it of couse helps me know what works, and what doesn't for future writing.


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